


Summer of Love

by balfey



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: 60s AU, Claire Beauchamp - Freeform, F/M, Jamie Fraser - Freeform, Outlander - Freeform, california au, jamie x claire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-06-02 18:51:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 30,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19447465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/balfey/pseuds/balfey
Summary: In Los Angeles, LAPD chief officer Claire Beauchamp starts to investigate the murders of actress Sharon Tate and her group of friends on the night of August 9th 1969.She has no suspects. No motive.Nothing tangible enough to find the perpetrators. A senseless case that marks the end of the Summer of Love. A case that will make her cross paths with James Fraser under suspicious circumstances.





	1. Cielo Drive

**Author's Note:**

> It’s the summer holidays and I thought it would be a perfect occasion to share this fic with you all! I’m a huge crime novel/documentaries/everything fan and I know way too much about the Manson family and the events of August 1969 – which I thought would be a perfect set up for a story. It’s unlike anything I ever wrote before and I’m so happy/nervous to finally be able to share it with you all. 
> 
> Updates every Tuesday.

_**9th August 1969, Los Angeles, CA  
** _

It was hot that night. But not as hot as the night before, when the temperature hadn’t dropped below 92 degrees. The heat wave had started to break, slowly but surely, though Los Angeles remained hot and muggy — _leaving its residents with no other choice but to keep the windows and doors open to let the air in if they wanted a half-decent night’s sleep._

Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp had been sleepless for most of the night. Tossing and turning in her bed, in the vain hope of feeling the cool cotton of her sheet against her skin. Sometime during the early hour, she had removed the cover completely and laid on her back, staring at the ceiling _— clad only in some knickers._ She wasn’t looking forward to sleepwalking into work later that day, but she did not have much of a choice in the matter, it seemed. 

_She could already tell it was about to be a long day._

Claire moved to America ten years ago. She couldn’t remember the last time a summer had been so excruciatingly hot. She remembered a time in Egypt _—she was about fifteen and on a trip with her parents, Henry and Julia, both renowned archaeologists._ The air had been just as dry. _Just as suffocating._ And sleeping in a tent in the middle of the desert had been just as excruciating. She smiled fondly at the memory and all the others coming back to her. She had spent most of her life on the road with her parents, visiting the most beautiful countries and meeting the most fascinating people. She wouldn’t change her unusual upbringing for the world. Nor the way it shaped her. 

The silence around her was truly anguishing. She couldn’t even hear the waves far off on Venice Beach, located at the end of her street. Her mind started to wonder about what was going on around the city at this time of the night. _Who was awake? Who was asleep? Who was walking around the empty streets? Who was smoking a cigarette?_ So many lives entwined, doing the same thing at the very same time. She felt herself getting all too philosophical for her own taste and brushed her thoughts away rather quickly, busying herself with a cigarette. 

Sometime around 5 a.m., she finally rose out of bed and walked towards her pink-tiled bathroom to take a shower. She wouldn’t fall asleep now and she had to wake up in two hours to go to work, anyway. It was pointless to even try. 

She let the lukewarm water cascade over her head and down her body while she laid against the cold tiles of the shower, eyes closed. She went over her day’s schedule, remembering it wasn’t that packed, for once. _Maybe she would even get to leave early?_

She began working for the LAPD eight years ago. Starting as a secretary, she slowly climbed the ladder up to become the first woman to serve as a chief officer. She was well respected by her colleagues, but she knew the whispers behind her back and what most of them really thought of her. She brushed off their sexist remarks, instead working harder than all of them combined. It was unfathomable to them that a woman could be the boss. And yet, after four years, here she was. They might as well be used to it by now. Most of them were too busy staring at her arse to notice her distaste for their misogyny. It amused her more than anything, if she was truly honest. 

The thing about Claire was that, no matter how early she woke up, she always ended up running out of the house not to be late for the office. Today was no exception. 

After her shower, she laid on her bed, wrapped in a towel, and listened to the radio, not seeing the time pass in a blur while she studied the newspaper from the day before. She had dressed quickly, ignoring the dresses in her closet and opting for a pair of Levi’s and a linen white shirt. It was too warm to wear anything more appropriate, but she had to stay professional. She pinned her curls up to get the mass away from her neck and let her skin breathe. Like most days, she skipped makeup altogether, save for some mascara hidden behind her pair of black Ray Bans.   
  
She managed to make herself toast with too much butter dabbed on before leaving. She’d have her coffee at the office, she thought. Little did she know that she wouldn’t have the time to sit down at her desk that day. Nor to have a cup of coffee before late in the afternoon.

**********

“Good morning,” Claire stated once she stepped through the front door of the building of the police department in North Hollywood. 

“Good morning, boss,” Jane, the receptionist, chanted happily with a broad smile. It was always a refreshing sight to see the young woman before entering her office full of morose and bored men. _Save for Joe._

Returning the smile, she winked and grabbed the plethora of mail waiting that Jane was holding out to her. “Thank you. Anything to report?” 

“They’ve all been running around like headless chickens for twenty minutes now, I have no idea what’s going on but I think you should check on them,” Jane smirked before sipping on her coffee. 

Claire frowned. “They’re early to the office, that’s not a good sign. I wonder who got murdered this time.” 

Her remark might sound like a joke, but it wasn’t. She could simply feel when things went awry, and she had a terrible sense since waking up during the night. An intuition that never failed her since she started working for the LAPD. 

“No one, as of late. Today’s the day of the inspection, ma’am.”

“Oh, that’s right. That’s why they’re panicking,” she rolled her eyes. “Well, let’s calm their tits.” 

“Would you like a coffee?” the blonde woman asked, trying not to laugh at her remark. 

“Yes, please. A strong one. I feel that I’m going to need it.” Claire gave her an exasperated look and made her way towards her office. 

“There you are!” 

“Here I am.” She deposited her satchel onto her desk before turning to her fellow officer, Tom Christie. He was a Scotsman who had moved to Los Angeles five years ago. When it came time to find a new head of office, he had been her direct competitor. He was floating in a sea of resentment and admiration towards her, and Claire knew he was battling both feelings on a daily basis. A knowledge that amused her. 

“You’re late,” he remarked, crossing his arms. 

Claire turned her head to look at the clock, her lip flicking up into a smirk. “It’s not even eight, you’re just earlier than usual to realize that I just arrived, Christie.” 

“You do look quite fidgety.” Rolling up her sleeves, she didn’t look at him as she made her observation. 

“I do not appreciate working on Saturdays is all.”

“I do not appreciate working on Saturdays, either. Even less with you, but here we are. Hang in there, it’s only half a day if we’re lucky,” she smirked, patting his arm. 

The Scot didn’t answer and showed his displeasure with a low noise on his way to his own desk. 

Jane appeared all bubbly, holding Claire’s favourite ceramic mug full of fuming coffee. She placed it on the desk while Claire was busy opening her mail. She quickly looked up and smiled at her as a “thank you” 

“Christie?” she called, looking down at the mail again once Jane had travelled back to the reception desk.

“Yes, ma’am?” His head snapped to look away from Jane, though she wasn’t paying attention to him.

“Close your mouth.” 

There were not enough women in this office. Not only it was a problem Claire was determined to solve; in the meantime, she’d also make sure the two who were around were not treated like pieces of meat. While she kept her wardrobe fairly simple, Jane wore short flowery dresses that left little to the imagination. Blonde locks floating past her shoulders, she looked like those hippies walking around the city. And she was charming, alright. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled, burying his face into the folder he was meant to be reading. 

Claire suppressed her laugh and put the mail away. She was about to sit at her desk to drink her coffee when the phone rang, the noise echoing throughout the entire office. 

“Detective Beauchamp?” she answered, resting the phone horn against her ear. 

“Ma’am, we have a Code 2. Possible homicide at 10050 Cielo Drive.” Officer Stephens, who was on his morning patrol, spoke on the other end of the receiver. 

“Code 2, 10050 Cielo Drive,” she repeated, nodding and quickly taking note of the address. 

“We’re on our way,” she said, at last, hanging up. Grabbing her satchel, she looked at Tom, who had glanced up again with an inquisitorial look, and tilted her head. “Come on, Christie. We’ve got a Code 2.” 

“The day just got terribly more exciting!” he stated, following her outside. 

“You do worry me sometimes, you know? I know you don’t like inspections but still.” 

“Don’t pretend you’re not at least slightly excited to be doing something more thrilling with your Saturday than waiting around in the office for the big boss to tell you what’s going great and what isn’t.”

“ _Touché_ ,” she admitted, getting into her car with a hint of a smirk. 

***********

Cielo Drive was a narrow street that abruptly wound upwards from Benedict Canyon Road. One of its _cul-de-sacs,_ easily missed though directly opposite of Bella Drive, came to a dead end at the high gate of 10050. From the front door of the main house to the gate was over a hundred feet. From the gate to the nearest neighbour on Cielo, 10070, spanned almost a hundred yards. 

The first thing Claire noticed when she parked the car in front of the gate was the cut telephone wire lying on the concrete. Then, she noticed the other police car parked opposite hers, informing her that Officer Stephens was somewhere on site. 

Stepping out of the vehicle, she stopped for a second to study the rest of her surroundings. Open gate. A white Rambler parked at an odd angle in the driveway. From afar, it didn’t look too bizarre. Nothing out of the ordinary, even. Yet, a cold shiver ran down Claire’s spine. Something terrible had happened here. 

“You stay here,” she instructed Christie, removing her sunglasses. 

“Why?” he protested, getting out of the car and watching her. 

“Because I said so,” she answered, not looking back at him. She started to walk towards the house, careful not to touch anything on her way there. 

As she approached the white Rambler, she realized it wasn’t empty. _Caucasian male. Barely twenty. Shot, at least twice._

Turning around, she looked at the officer. “Christie, reflection made, come over here and cover this poor guy, would you?” 

“Let me go in there,” he walked over to her, taking out his gun. 

“Are you aware I’ve been to previous crime scenes before?” Raising her eyebrows, she crossed her arms. 

“I know you believe that the existence of my developed breasts and the fact that I don’t own a penis make me less capable of doing my job than you, but still. Stay here, I’ll go see where Officer Stephens ended up.” 

Ignoring his mumbling, she continued her way towards the main house. 

“Boss.” Officer Stephens — _Donald_ — made his way towards her from the back of the house. His unexpected appearance startled her slightly but she didn’t show any sign of it. 

“There you are,” she looked at him, a bit relieved. “There’s one body in the car.”

“And four more on the property, ma’am.” 

She blinked, recording the information though not quite believing it, yet. “Four? Are you kidding me?”

“No, ma’am. I wouldn’t joke about such a thing.” His eyes were full of something. _Fear_. _Disgust_. Things that were not soothing her worry. “The maid placed the call from the neighbour’s house on 10070. She’s the first one who found the bodies and she’s being taken care of by a doctor. She’s in quite a state of shock.”

“How bad is it?” she asked, trying to meet his eyes.

“I’ve never seen anything like this, ma’am…and I’ve been working at this position for fifteen years.” His eyes dropped once more. 

“Did you search the site?”

He nodded. “It’s clear.” 

“Go back to Christie and you two make sure the road is closed and the scene is protected. This is a posh neighbourhood, it’ll only be a matter of time until the press is up our asses. I will interview the maid once she calms down, and you’ll need to find me someone else who can identify the victims.”

“Are you going to go in there?” he asked, almost worried. 

“No, I’m gonna get a coffee while someone more qualified than me arrives.” Claire brushed off his question and started her path back towards the house before quickly turning around. “You didn’t touch anything, did you?” 

He shook his head and she continued. “Good. Call Doctor Abernathy for him to get here as well. We’re going to need him.” 

“Oh yeah, we will, boss,” Donald whispered, making his way towards Tom and the car. 

The first body was located eighteen to twenty feet past the front door. The closer she came, the worse it looked. _Male, Caucasian as well._ But in his thirties, it seemed. He was about five foot ten and wearing short boots, multi-coloured bell bottoms, a purple shirt, and a casual vest. He was lying on his side, his head resting on his right arm, his left hand clutching the grass. His head and face were horribly battered, his torso and limbs punctured by literally dozens of wounds. It seemed inconceivable that so much savagery could be inflicted on one human being. 

_And Claire was far from being done seeing the worst of it._

The second body was about twenty-five feet beyond the first. _Female, Caucasian, long dark hair, probably in her late twenties._ She was lying supine, her arms thrown out. Barefoot, she was wearing a full-length nightgown — _which, before the many stab wounds, had probably been white._

The stillness got to Claire. Everything was quiet, too quiet. The serenity itself became menacing, even though Donald had said the site was clear. To be sure, she decided against going through the front door and instead went from the back, inspecting the house by the same occasion. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. No signs of an infraction, save for a screen removed from one of the windows that was leaning up against the side of the building. Suspecting that to be where the killer or killers entered, she looked for another means of entry. 

She found a window open on the side. Looking in, she saw what appeared to be a newly painted room, devoid of furniture. She climbed in. The few steps out of the room and onto the main living area were heavy and slow. On her guard and in no rush, hand ready to reach for her weapon, if needed. Not only on the lookout for someone, but also on the hunt to find the last two bodies that were supposed to be here, somewhere. 

The room was light and airy. Desk, chair, piano. Then, something odd. In the center, facing the fireplace, was a long couch. Draped over the back was a large American flag. Not until she was almost to the couch did she see what was on the other side. 

_She was young, blonde, and very pregnant._ She was lying on her left side, directly in front of the couch, her legs tucked up toward her stomach in a fetal position. She wore a flowered bra and matching bikini panties, but the pattern was almost indistinguishable because of the blood, which looked as if it had been smeared over her entire body. A white nylon rope was looped around her neck twice, one end extending over a rafter in the ceiling, the other leading across the floor to yet another body —that of a man, located about four feet away. 

The rope was also looped twice around the man’s neck, the loose end going under his body, then extending several feet beyond. A bloody towel covered his face, hiding his features. He was short — about five-foot six — and was lying on his right side, his hands bunched up near his head as if still warding off blows. His clothing was also blood-drenched. 

Claire didn’t bother checking either of the bodies for a pulse. Like the three other ones on the property, it was unnecessary. She was a homicide detective. She was used to dreadful crime scenes. _To seeing death_. But never in her life had she seen anything like this. And she was sure she never would again. At least, she hoped. 

She didn’t bother searching the rest of the place — not yet, anyway. The rest of the team was most likely on their way and the remainder of her search could wait for their arrival. She needed air. But most importantly, she needed to get out of this house. _Quickly_. 

She was careful not to touch anything on her way to the front door, noticing some blood stains on the carpet. Quickly, she put on some plastic gloves she had in her pockets to actually open the door. She noticed writing on the white wood. The word “PIG” written messily in red. She was trained enough to know immediately it was blood, the sign turning her stomach once more. 

Claire let the thick and heavy air hit her face. It didn’t help fight back the nauseating feeling she was fighting. But it helped slightly. At least outside it smelled of grass and flowers. Not of lifeless bodies. 

“Lady Jane.” Dr. Abernathy — _Joe_ — strolled over to her. He was already dressed in his white jumpsuit, ready for action, a camera in hand. 

“You’re paler than usual,” he remarked, frowning slightly. They worked on countless crime scenes together, but it was the first time he saw her like this. 

“I just saw a pregnant woman stabbed to death, give me a second.” She sat down on the stairs of the porch, rubbing her face. She was glad to only have eaten a piece of toast this morning. 

“You know who lives here, right?” he asked softly, looking towards the house. 

“I don’t, and I can’t tell from the way they all look. One of them even has his face covered.” 

“The house belongs to Rudolph Altobelli, a talent and music manager, but he’s been renting it to Sharon Tate and her husband since February. And before you ask, no, I don’t know where Altobelli is.” 

“Well I’m going to find this out while you go do your thing.” She stood back up, ignoring her pounding headache. “I also need to visit the guest house.” 

“What should we do about the press? It won’t be too long before they arrive here.” Tom Christie appeared behind Joe, his usual helpless expression stamped on his semi-attractive face. 

“What do you suggest?” She crossed her arms, looking at Tom attentively. 

“They will want details, I’m guessing we should give some to them.” 

“That’s what I suspected you would say.” She gave Joe an exasperated look. 

“We can’t give details because we barely know what even happened here, or who exactly the victims are. We have no suspect. No motive. And it’s out of the question that their families learn about this through the press. One more dumb suggestion like this from your part, and you’ll spend the rest of your career answering the phone and welcoming visitors at the office.” 

“Yes ma’am,” he mumbled while Joe stood there, grinning. 

“Now, go double check and make sure no photographers get in here. There will be a press conference when need be.” 

Nodding, Tom disappeared as quickly as he had arrived. 

“Do you know how much I love you, Lady Jane? You bossing the white men around and everything,” he nudged her, smirking. 

“You’ll thank me later when no one’s tampered with your crime scene, because if you let them, they’d put fingerprints all over this place.”

“You’re right.” Joe turned his head towards the two other officers, rolling his eyes. 

“Alright, I’ll go and see for myself while you take care of the rest.” 

“Do that,” Claire smiled softly, putting her shades back on. 

Claire had no idea how long she had stayed on site. _Hours, surely._ Time had become an abstract concept with all the comings and goings around her. 

She had interviewed the maid, automatically ruling her out from the slim list of suspects based on the simple sight of that poor woman; the neighbours — who heard nothing suspicious; the guest-house occupant who had been taken into custody as the one — and only — suspect for now. The press was stationed outside the gate, desperately trying to capture pictures from behind the big palisades they had put up to block the view. The news had spread all over the city like wildfire. 

No one suspected her to be the head investigator on the case, so when she went back to her car to grab her much-needed pack of cigarettes, no one batted an eyelash. Something, for once, she was grateful for. 

She made her way to the side of the home, away from the crowd parked in the street, and sat on the neighbouring house’s stairs to light her smoke. Removing her glasses, she rubbed her face — trying to forget what she had seen in that house. Trying to understand what happened. But it was already driving her mad. And she knew it would only get worse. 

Something else caught her eyes. _Someone_. A mop of red hair belonging to a very tall and very dashing man. She had seen him before. He seemed distressed _— panicked, even._ Frantically looking around as he receded away from the crowd. _He had spotted her._ Their eyes locking quickly from afar. But his eyes escaped hers rather quickly, avoiding them altogether. 

“Jamie,” she whispered, her breath caught and her heart skipping a beat. She wasn’t loud enough for him to hear her. 

Getting up, she decided to follow him; but in a second, he had disappeared behind the bushes. _Away from her._

She realized she might have been hallucinating. After what she saw inside that house, she wasn’t thinking straight. _Or maybe he had been here?_

Something had switched around her. The careless and free feeling that had been floating around the city for a little more than two years now was gone. Something had replaced it. _An urge. A panic_. _Something unsettling._ From now on, nothing would ever be the same in Los Angeles. She could already sense the paranoia taking over its residents the more seconds that passed. She put her sunglasses back on and took another drag of her cigarette, letting the smoke burn down her gullet. 

_What was Jamie doing here?_

The question playing in her head, over and over again. She was exhausted and badly craving the coffee she had not yet consumed. Already dreading the long hours this case would bring upon her, Claire looked around once more for the redheaded Scot, with the vain hope to see him again but he was gone. 

Years later, people still referred to the night of the 9th of August 1969 as the day the Summer of Love abruptly ended. _And so did her life as she had known it._


	2. Spanh Ranch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that Mrs.B is wrapped, I’m finally back with the rest of this story! This chapter is a flashback as to how Jamie and Claire met before we got back into the investigation and what the scot has to do with it all…Thank you so much for reading and enjoy!

_**Three months earlier** _

_“Let me get this clearly, boss. You want to infiltrate a hippie commune?” Tom watched her, leaning against his desk. Arms crossed and eyebrows raised. He had a stunned expression on his face – one that would make her laugh if she wasn’t being serious about what she was about to do._

_“I’d have you do it but you’re not going to be too believable as a hippie and you can’t go two minutes lying without your left eyelid starting to shake — ”_

_“It’s probably not safe in there!” He protested, exasperated at her stubbornness._

_“They promote love and peace, of course, it’s safe. Granted, they allegedly deal drugs and firearms,” She grinned, looking at him briefly. “But if no one goes there, we’re never going to catch any of them. Are we?”_

_“Fine! Why don’t you send another man, then? What about John? Or Donald?” Tom started to run down the list of every other man working under her facility. Which led an exasperated sigh to escape her lips, this time._

_“Tom, truly, I do appreciate your concerns but I won’t change my mind about it,” she sipped her coffee, continuing to type on her typewriter._

_“And what makes you so sure they’ll welcome you in?” he got up, leaning down on her desk to look at her._

_“Uh?” His eyebrows raised in question._

_“What makes you so sure they won’t?” she looked up at him with a grin. She thought she saw his lip twitch. No, actually, she was sure she did._

_“It’s worth trying and they don’t seem to be aware we’re watching them. Obviously if just spying on the ranch would have been enough, we would have got something by now but it’s not, so we’re moving to the second course of action which is infiltration.”_

_“How long exactly do you plan on staying in there, eh?”_

_“Long enough to find something, which I’m sure won’t take me too long. And bonus, it’s like a free vacation away from all of you.” She joked, though not really._

_“You’re gonna pretend you like to walk around barefoot and smoke weed?” His eyebrows flicked up in question._

_“You don’t know that I don’t,” she leaned back in her chair, determined to get the last word on this topic. “Are you done now?”_

__Ignoring her, he continued,_ “Can you be serious for a second? You don’t know that it’s not dangerous and you don’t know what you might find in there. Maybe nothing, maybe something. No matter what, it’s not without its risks. I do hope you’re not stubborn enough not to at least realise the situation you’re getting yourself into.” _

_“I do appreciate your concern, though I believe it to be more patronising than actual worry, Christie, I won’t change my mind. I’m going and if anything happens to me, you can go around the office telling everyone ‘I told her so’ but I’m sure that won’t be the case or I wouldn’t be going.”_

_“But you also forget to mention the mysterious disappearances at that very ranch — ”_

_“Now if you could get me the files I asked for this morning, that would be lovely,” Claire got up, ignoring his remarks._

_Of course, she knew about the disappearances. About the risks. That wouldn’t stop her, anyway. Without another word, she left her office to go towards Joe’s._

_It wouldn’t be the first immersive mission she went on — and she didn’t particularly believe it to be more dangerous than the previous ones. No matter what, the thrill it brought her was unlike anything else — that was exactly the reason why she loved her job so much._

_A knock at the door brought Joe out of his concentration and he looked up, his face immediately illuminating as he saw her._

_“Abernathy, I need your help,” Claire walked in, closing the door behind her._

_“I love it when you say that,” he grinned, leaning back with his arms crossed._

_“What can I do for you today, Lady Jane? It sounds quite serious.”_

_“I’m infiltrating a hippie commune on Friday, I need new clothes and a good backstory to tell,” She said nonchalantly, grabbing one of the cookies on his desk._

_“Are we going shopping?” He made wide eyes, grinning._

_“Well yes,” she chewed, leaning against the chair. “I don’t have much stuff in my closet that screams hippie — ”_

_“You’ve got the hair and the ass for it, already,” Joe smirked, getting up. “But come on, let’s find you some things to wear, LJ.”_

_*******_

_Spanning across fifty-five acres of dried land, Spahn Ranch was situated on the Santa Susana Mountains, above Chatsworth, California. From 1947, the ranch had been used for movie sets up until 1965. Now, it mostly was a popular location for horseback riding among locals, as well as a squat for a certain Charles — Charlie — Manson and his family: a group of hippies who seemed rather inoffensive on the surface. But their leader was sketchy — he had been arrested twice already and the LAPD had been on this case for the past three months, trying to solve a bunch of mysterious disappearances around these parts without much luck._

_It wasn’t Claire’s first immersive mission, though she wasn’t sure of just how long this one was supposed to last. She wasn’t really scared — she never was. But she had no idea what she would find up there and even less if those people would welcome her._

_As she walked the pathway towards the ranch, she carefully studied her surroundings. Quietness. Peace. No noise of the city came through and it was almost a picturesque sight to look at. Though the silence was almost deafening._

_She chose to name herself Lizzie — from London. She decided to stick to the truth as much as possible, slightly changing some details that wouldn’t endanger her, just in case. So, she was an orphan who grew up with her uncle, following him all over the world._

_She wore a pair of distressed denim shorts, some dirty white canvas shoes and a rainbow crochet top that left barely anything to the imagination. Her hair was the usual birdnest, fitting for her role. And she carried around a battered bag with few of her belongings. She had crafted her story well. She knew it by heart. Now, she prayed it would work._

_Claire also knew Charlie had been arrested this morning for theft in a supermarket — which was a rather good timing not to have him around while she investigated the place and the people living here. She couldn’t abort this now and she was determined to find out whatever was going on here._

_“Are ye lost, lass?”_

_The voice startled her, coming directly from behind her. It wasn’t menacing, simply warm and rather strong._

_Slowly, she turned around to see to whom it belonged. He was tall — very tall. His head topped with the most flaming red curls she had ever seen and his eyes were a peculiar shade of light blue. He only wore some denim, his chest toned and sweaty as he was busy with the task of tidying straw. From the sound of his voice, he was Scottish._

_“Uh, hello,” she smiled sweetly, collecting herself. “Yeah, I’m looking for the ranch? I’ve been told it’s around these parts — ”_

_“Aye,” his face illuminated with a kind smile in return. He looked inoffensive and kind. Something about him was calming, which she couldn’t really explain._

_“Ye’re at the right address,” he walked over to her, wiping his forehead with a cloth._

_“I’m Jamie,” he introduced himself, watching her attentively._

_“Nice to meet you,” she held out her hand, praying the glass face she spent many years trying to get rid of, wasn’t suddenly back._

_“I’m Lizzie.”_

_“Ah, a sassenach,” he grinned, putting the cloth on his bare shoulder before shaking her index finger — something that made her smile. “‘Tis no’ verra common around these parts, eh.”_

_“I could say the same about a Scottish man,” she looked at him over her sunglasses, smirking._

_“‘Tis true,” he admitted, still smiling._

_The man in front of her seemed to be relaxed, yet, he seemed on his guard. After all, she was a stranger, she couldn’t blame him. And if odd things were going on around these parts, it wasn’t surprising, either._

_“Are ye here for the horse riding?” He asked, though his eyes travelled to her travel bag._

_“Why? Wanna give me a ride?” Her lip flicked up into a smirk. She would never flirt openly like that with a stranger in her day to day life but this wasn’t her day to day life. This was work and she had a job to do. She’d be careful not to play with fire, however._

_“Aye, I would,” he crossed his arms, watching her attentively. Something in his eyes making her shiver — and not from fears._

_She removed her sunglasses, clearing her throat. “I heard some girls in town talking about this place and since I need a roof, I thought I’d come around and see if it would be possible? Of course, I can, like, work around or whatever you need me for. I just don’t have any cash, I’m afraid.”_

_“A wanderin’ soul, are ye?”_

_“I guess you could say that,” she smiled, nodding. “I arrived in California only a few weeks ago and the beach isn’t the most comfortable place to sleep at if I’m honest with you. Though, it’s beautiful at sunrise and sunset.”_

_“Aye, I agree. Weel, ye came to the right place, Sassenach!” Smiling, Jamie picked up her bag and winked — or tried to, anyway. He took her hand, his grasp gentle and reassuring._

_“Follow me, I’ll show ye around and introduce ye to everyone. Well, at least to the folks who are here right now. We’re quite a bit livin’ on the ranch and some are either in town or on rides.”_

_“Are you, like, running this place?” She asked, as if she didn’t know the answer to this already, and looked around, following him._

_“Och, nay,” He turned his head to look at her with a smile as they walked. “Old George owns the place but he lets us live here in exchange for work and the company.”_

_“Charlie runs this place but he’s no’ home at the moment. Some cops got him at the supermarket this mornin’ cause he didn’t pay some of the food, I’m sure ye ken how that goes — ”_

_“Yeah, what a bunch of fucks,” She answered, still very much looking around, the softness of his hand not lost on her._

_The place was huge and most of the former movie sets were either deserted or turned into squats for the people living here. It looked like a bunch of homeless folks had assumed the place, leaving their bags and mattresses everywhere. A few dogs were running around. Even one or two kids — whose? Claire wondered._

_Every single person noticing her seemed relaxed and smiled kindly. Some were laying on the porch, talking in a group and sharing cigarettes and joints. While some others were either reading or sleeping. No one seemed fazed that a stranger had just made an appearance, quite the contrary._

_“Tis no’ verra grand but ‘tis home,” Jamie stopped, looking at her with a smile. “I hope it can be for ye too, Sassenach. Ye are welcome here, for as long as ye need.”_

_“Thank you Jamie,” she touched his arm in a friendly gesture, smiling in turn. “Are you sure I’m not bothering?”_

_“Of course I’m sure. Charlie says we’re his family and the door is always open for more wandering souls who are lookin’ for a place to call home. If ye’re here, ye must have a story and a yarnin’ for something, aye? Ye’re more than welcome to stay wi’ us, Lizzie.”_

_“A story and yarning, yeah,” she smiled softly, “You could say that.”_

_“I only arrived last month so ye’ll share a room wi’ me if ye dinna mind? Otherwise, I’m sure Susan and Leslie would be more than willin’ to have another lass crashing with them in their room – ‘tis just a bit cramped.”_

_“No, I don’t mind sharing a place with you and I don’t snore so,” she grinned. His request wasn’t unusual since everyone seemed to share everything, here. A big family, they were. Sharing rooms. Sharing food. Drugs._

_He chuckled softly, “Good, neither do I.”_

_Looking around again, Claire realised she wasn’t the most at ease_ _. Something odd was floating in the air and the smell of weed taking residence in her nostrils and forming a headache against her temples wasn’t helping much, either. She had to be on her guard. She had to be careful and think of every single thing that would come out of her mouth as long as she would stay here._

_However, something about Jamie reassured her, calmed her. She couldn’t explain what it was – she wouldn’t question it, for now. She had to find herself an anchor and he seemed to be the best option as of late. Time only would tell._

_She had to remind herself, not everyone around here was supposed to be a criminal. At least, she hoped._

_“And who do we have here?” A petite brunette leaned against the scot, her voice rather high pitched with a thick southern accent. She was much smaller than him, with wide blue eyes rather frightening that were glued on Claire and a smirk stamped on her face. She was wearing a long grey t-shirt that had seen better days and her hair was almost black, straight very long and quite greasy._

_“‘Tis Lizzie,” Jamie introduced, wrapping his arm around the brunette’s waist. “She arrived in LA a few weeks ago and she’s in need of a roof. Och and she’s British.”_

_“Thanks, yeah, I can hear that,” she smirked, kissing his cheek. “I’m Susan. Welcome to Spahn Ranch,” she held out her hand._

_“Nice to meet you,” Claire took her hand and squeeze it, smiling politely back._

_“Can you give her a tour, babe? I have to go and bail Charlie out,” she rolled her eyes. “Or at least, try.”_

_“Aye, dinna fash,” He smiled, looking at Claire again. “I’ll show her aroun’.”_

_“We’ll talk later, I want to know every little thing about you English rose!” Susan kissed her cheek, gave her a tight hug and disappeared as quickly as she had appeared._

_“Weel, ye met Susan,” he smiled, taking her hand again. “She’s been here for a while.”_

_“Is she your girlfriend?” She asked nonchalantly, following him._

_Claire wondered why she cared about the answer to this question so much. They met barely ten minutes ago and, most importantly, she wasn’t supposed to get attached. To anyone._

_Jamie looked at her, smiling, “Nay, she’s Charlie’s. Well officially, anyway. Ye ken how these things go.”_

_“Right,” she answered, remembering the message of free love for all-around these communes. This place might not be much different from what information she gathered before coming here, after all._

_She was determined to find out what was going on and she would not rest until she did._

_******_

_Claire’s time had the ranch equalled a slow haze — where time seemed to have vanished to leave space for an abstract replacement of some kind. She had been here for about three weeks. Three weeks where she had been Lizzie: the British expat who had arrived in Los Angeles a little less than two months ago._

_Lizzie who was an orphan and who came to the city of angels to find freedom and happiness, like most of the young people seeking such things. Her story seemed to be believable enough since no one cared to question it._

_She spent her days with Jamie, helping around the estate, with the horses and chores. It seemed as if she had lived here all her life. That was on the surface. The rest of the time, she would snoop around, taking notes of any odd behaviour or conversation going on around her. Gathering pieces of evidence of illegal activities._

_She had met with Tom and Joe, only once. It had been five days ago in a little cafe in town. She had been careful to go alone and made sure no one from the family had followed her. She had briefed them about the things she had found — the firearms and drug deals going around — and the three of them had agreed for a search to happen on a set date._

_The date was today._

_Claire had her plan to be away from the ranch before the officers would arrive. What she didn’t intend was to get Jamie to go with her but she realised she couldn’t help herself._

_From the few weeks they had spent together, a bond emerged. One she had never felt with anyone else before. They had become fast friends — and she knew he was the only one around the ranch she could completely trust. All the other people were very friendly to her but they didn’t trust her and she knew it. Jamie, however, had been completely open and welcoming with her. She was also attracted to him but tried to convince herself of the contrary._

_The excuse was grocery shopping._

_So, Jamie and Claire found themselves at the market on Larchmont while the rest stayed behind at the ranch. Claire was determined to take her time to make sure the search and arrests would have happened long before they’d make it back. She also knew who her colleagues were after and Jamie wasn’t one of them, thankfully._

_“Oranges?” she asked, looking at the scot._

_“Aye, a few for the juice,” he smiled, standing closely next to her. “And some lemons.”_

_Claire nodded, putting the fruits in their basket._

_“Taste that, Sassenach and tell me ‘tis not the best thing ye’ve ever eaten,” Jamie grabbed a strawberry and held it in front of her mouth, smiling._

_Grinning, she leaned up and ate the strawberry directly from his fingers, “It’s very good, indeed.”_

_“Told ye,” He smirked, licking the strawberry juice from his fingers._

_“But it’s not on our list,” she chuckled, nudging him._

_“Och well,” he whispered, kissing her cheek and smuggling a few strawberries inside the basket._

_“Jamie,” she looked at him with raised eyebrows. “I don’t want you to end up with Charlie, you know.”_

_“Tis just some fruits, I’m no’ some criminal, neither is Charlie.” Jamie smiled, kissing her cheek. “Now come,” he grabbed her hand and led her away from the stand._

_She didn’t comment on the fact they hadn’t paid for the fruits. Because she was aware of how much money they had been given to spend and it wasn’t enough to feed more than three people. The ranch was packed with folks on a daily basis._

_She had never met Charlie — and never would as Lizzie, since he was still not bailed out of jail and his sentence finished up in three months. However, his presence was all over the ranch. Like a ghost lurking around, guiding every single lost soul in that place. He was their God. Their saviour. And Claire quickly realised it was all a little bit cultish._

_They sat at the beach together, sharing the few strawberries Jamie had stolen, in silence. Her eyes were glued to the waves reaching the sand, her heart pinching at the realisation her time with him was running out. Jamie was still a mystery to her. He barely talked about his life in Scotland. About what brought him to Los Angeles in the first place and how he ended up on the ranch. She desperately wanted to know more about him. To know everything about this man. But she never would._

_She was equally fascinated and frightened by the effect he had on her. It was safer to leave before something happened and her entire reputation at the office was put in jeopardy. She couldn’t risk it._

_“I can hear ye thinkin’ from here, Sassenach,” he turned his head to look at her, smiling. “What’s on yer wee mind?”_

_“Nothing important, really,” she rested her head on her knees, watching him._

_He smiled, stroking a stray curl away from her face, “Do ye know how beautiful you are?”_

_“What?” She chuckled, shaking head. “I’m no such thing.”_

_“I have one of the most breathtaking sights in front of my eyes — the ocean — and yet, all I can look at is ye, Sassenach. I’m no’ making it up.”_

_“Stop it,” she smiled, laying back in the sand._

_Jamie got up, looking down at her, “Dinna move for a minute. I’ll be right back.”_

_“Where are you going?” She frowned, looking at him walking away._

_“I’ll be right back!” He answered, grinning._

_Shaking her head, she smiled and closed her eyes. She realised she barely came to the beach anymore when it was basically down her street. But she remembered how fascinated she had been when she first set foot here after arriving from England, ten years ago._

_After a moment, she felt someone taking her hand and instantly knew it was Jamie without needing to open her eyes but she did it anyway. He sat there, carefully tying a seashell bracelet around her thin wrist._

_“A wee gift for ye,” he smiled, bringing her hand to his lips and placing a kiss on the inside of her wrist. “‘Tis no’ much but I hope ye like it.”_

_Claire sat up slowly, touched by his gesture beyond words. “Thank you,” she said simply and kissed his cheek. Her lips lingering on his skin a tad too long._

_“Dinna thank me,” He cupped her cheek, their eyes locking._

_“Jamie…” she breathed out softly, not moving an inch to prevent herself from kissing him._

_“Aye?” He stroked her cheek, watching her._

_“Thank you for welcoming me at the ranch…everyone’s been really kind to me but you’ve been the only one not treating me slightly suspiciously,” she smiled softly._

_“_ _It means a lot to me.”_

_This simple mission was turning on her. It was supposed to be work and yet, here she was. Caught up in it more than she had wished for. But no matter her lies to cover herself, one thing was true, she was thankful for meeting him._

_“I’m glad we met, Sassenach. And no matter what, ye dinna need to be scairt of me…or anyone else here as long as I’m wi’ ye, aye?”_

Maybe in another life, something could have happened between them. 

Claire tried not to think of such a possibility since abandoning the ranch and her persona of Lizzie. She tried to stop thinking about Jamie but he always crept up on her during the most unexpected moments. _When she slept at night. When she was walking on the beach._

No matter what she did. No matter where she was. Jamie was around somewhere, like a ghost. And every time she spotted a mop of red hair in a crowd, a mixture of panic and relief took over her before it was replaced by the sad realisation it wasn’t him. 

What Jamie had said that day at the beach at always stuck with her. She never understood why he had told her not to be scared of him. 

But after seeing the scot roaming on a murder scene — looking panicked and fleeing the site, she started to realise that maybe, just maybe, she might have miscalculated who James Fraser really was. 

And now, sitting at her office desk, surrounded by files and racking her brain to find an explanation to this senseless murder that had happened the night before, she found herself completely torn about what to do about this potential information. And going back to the ranch was out of the question since it had been raided. 

It could be nothing. Or it could be the piece of the puzzle that would solve this all. All she knew was that she had to find Jamie.

_Quickly._


	3. Stranger in The Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re gonna start seeing a bit more of Jamie soon...bear with me. 
> 
> Thanks for reading and for the lovely feedback!

_**11th August 1969** _

Claire had not slept properly for the past two nights. _She was tired. She was grumpy._ And the hoard of journalists planted in front of her office didn’t do much to help ease her already irritated disposition. The Tate murders had been in the news since it happened. _Rumours. Lies. Fake information._ Ridiculous things were floating around to create the most shocking story possible. 

Officer Beauchamp tried to ignore most of it, but she couldn’t. _It was everywhere._ And mostly on her nerves. 

All she wanted was to be able to concentrate on this to solve this case as quickly as possible. Not that she was too confident she would since it seemed they’d be looking for a needle in a pile of hay. They had one suspect in custody and that was about it. _Not even a good suspect, she had to admit._

“Mornin’ boss,” Jane walked over to her as soon as she had stepped through the door and handed her a warm mug of coffee. 

“Oh, God bless you, Jane,” Claire smiled, taking the mug and removing her pair of sunglasses. 

“You left late last night, I thought you’d need it,” she smiled, sitting back behind the reception desk. 

Claire took a sip, careful not to burn her tongue on the boiling liquid and watched her, “Christie in yet?” 

Shaking her head, Jane looked through the mail. “You’re the first in this morning.” 

“Of course,” Claire rolled her eyes but smiled before going over her desk. 

Truthfully, she loved to be the first at the office. _Silence was bliss._ Arare luxury in her day to day job, even more since those goddamn murders had happened. She was determined to take full advantage of her moments alone to focus before the circus would start again. 

“And the suspect’s first deposition is waiting on your desk, ready for the interview,” Jane added, looking at her. 

“Alright, thank you — ”

“Oh, and Mr Randall called for you, again!” The blonde quickly looked down at her notes, “He’d ask you to call him back to confirm dinner on Friday?” 

Claire shot her a look, raising her eyebrows and smirking. 

“No dinner on Friday. Got it.” Jane chuckled, “I’ll let him know.” 

“I wonder how many times do I have to say no for him to understand it doesn’t mean _‘maybe next time’._ ” 

“You can’t blame the man for trying,” Jane brought over a stack of newspapers and deposited them on Claire’s already messy desk. 

“I think there’s a little competition between Randall and Officer Christie for who would get your attention first. Since Christie works for you, Randall must think he’s in for the win. It doesn’t help your case that you’re the only British woman in a rather large perimeter, boss.” 

“Can you believe men actually think like that?” Claire couldn’t prevent her eyes rolling once more as she removed her jacket and sat down. 

“And they call us the weaker sex!”

“It just makes men feel better, Jane,” the curly head leaned back in her chair, grinning. She lit up a cigarette. 

“I bet neither Christie nor Randall understands I have little to no interest in their demeanour and that I even find it slightly insulting I’m the object of a bet between two childhood friends who probably were in each other’s presence when their willies stood up for the very first time.” 

Jane’s laugh echoed in the room as she walked back towards the reception desk, “You’re a witty one, boss.” 

Smiling at that, Claire puffed on her cigarette and started to read their only suspect’s deposition. William Garretson: caucasian, early twenties, guest house occupant and caretaker. Garretson was the only person on the property at the moment of the murders who was still alive. He was also the person one of the victims was visiting, that night. 

His deposition was very simple: _he had seen nothing and heard nothing._ Though, gunshots and screams seemed to be rather hard to miss from such close proximity with the main house. 

Officer Beauchamp gathered her files and went up to the second floor where Garretson and his lawyer were waiting for her in one of the interrogatory rooms. 

“Good morning gentlemen,” she said nonchalantly as she walked into the room. 

Garretson looked rather inoffensive — _afraid, almost._ But not the fear she recognized from previous guilty men she had interviewed in her career. More so fear of finding himself in such a situation. His hair was curly and brown, much like her own. And his eyes piercing green. She could tell he had no idea what to do _— smile or not, talk or not —_ in her presence. 

“Good morning,” the lawyer, Mr Stephens, got up and shook her hand. 

She gave them both a polite smile and sat down in front of them, “Is there anything you’d like to say before we start? As you know, your client is in temporary custody since he is the only suspect in the Tate case, as of late. He could be discharged rather quickly after this interview if I don’t find anything incriminatory or odd about his retelling of the events of August 9th.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” the lawyer smiled and looked at his client for a brief second. “And no, nothing to add.” 

Claire turned on the tape recorder and turned her gaze towards the young man sitting in front of her. 

She glanced at her file before starting her questionnaire, “Your name is William Eston Garretson and you were born August 24th 1949, in Lancaster? Is that correct?” 

Garretson nodded. 

“You’ll have to speak up each answer clearly,” she looked at him, crossing her arms. 

“Yes, that’s correct,” he said faintly, clearing his throat. 

“And you have been the caretaker for the property of 10095 Cielo Drive since mid-March 1969, upon Mr Altobelli’s hiring?”

“I was, yes.” 

“Good,” she smiled, taking a sip of her coffee. 

“Now can you tell me what you were doing on the night of August 9th and what was your connection with the deceased Mr Parent.”

“I spent most of the day at the beach with a group of friends — ”

“I do know that I asked about the night,” she interrupted him, her whisky eyes not leaving his sight. “You came back to Cielo at around 10:15pm like you told my colleague. Did you see anyone on the property?” 

He shook his head, “No. There were only the cars of Mrs Tate and her friends. Nothing else out of the ordinary around the estate, the Polanskis often had guests over.” 

“What I want to know is what you were doing from the moment Mr Parent arrived and the moment he got shot on his way out.” 

“Steven,” he stopped for a second, “Mr Parent arrived somewhere around 11:45 pm, by himself and he parked the car in the driveway before coming over the guest house by the little pathway.” 

“Did you invite him?” 

“No, he just showed up -- ”

“Did you know him before that date? And if yes, how did you two come in contact and what was your relationship?” 

“Well, two weeks before the...accident happened, he gave me a ride up to Sunset Boulevard. I was hitchhiking, that’s how I go around Los Angeles most of the time, ma’am.” 

She nodded, listening closely for any indication of lies in his voice. 

Garretson continued, “That’s the only time I had met him. He brought a radio with him, a clock radio, and he wanted to know if I would like to buy the one that he had. He worked in an appliance place or something that dealt with radios and stereos. I did not buy it and we shared a beer before he left again.” 

“Do you recall what time he left the house?”

“Around midnight, yeah, something like that. He didn’t stay for more than twenty minutes or so. Once he left, I turned on some music and laid on the bed for a really long time, officer. I couldn’t exactly tell you how long it had been.”

_That was the detail that didn’t fit._

Claire leaned closer to him, her voice soft yet strong, “Mr Garretson, you can either be a suspect or a witness. I’ll let you choose which one you want to be. So, you are going to say this last bit to me one more time in order for me to decide which one you are, yes?” 

The man blinked, looking at his lawyer briefly for reassurance but the other man didn’t wince. Instead, he gave him a slight nod of the head. 

“After Mr Parent left, I heard gunshots and noises.” He finally admitted, looking down at his hands. 

“It wasn’t unusual for the Polanski's to have parties at the house and the screams didn’t seem more to me than a woman being thrown in the pool.” 

“How do you explain the shots, then?” Her eyebrows rose in question. 

“I don’t, ma’am,” he looked at her, answering honestly. 

“I tried to call the police but the line was dead. I didn’t know what to do, I surely didn’t think going out to see what was going on was too much of a good idea. So I turned off the lights of the house and hid inside the room until the screams stopped. I must have fallen asleep eventually because I got woken up by your men storming into the place.” 

“Good, that’s all I need from you for now,” Claire stopped the recorder and got up, gathering her stuff. “I’ll be back in the afternoon.” 

Both men got up at the same time. The lawyer nodded and offered her his hand again, “Thank you, Officer.” 

Claire shook it firmly and gave them one last look before disappearing out of the room and back to the first floor and to her office. She had no idea how long she interviewed Garretson but when she got back, Tom Christie was sitting on her desk, waiting for her. 

“Christie, get off my desk,” she commanded, looking at him. 

“Ma’am,” the Scotsman got up immediately and she had to repress a grin from her lips which hadn’t been too difficult with the information he dropped on her. 

“We got a second murder, boss.” 

“Well good morning to you too,” she looked at him, feeling the need for another cigarette creeping up on her. She sat down and waited for the details. 

“It was in Los Feliz this time. Leno and Rosemary LaBianca, a husband and a wife, both around their late fifties. They owned a chain of supermarkets — ” Tom handed her an envelope full of polaroid pictures she started to study attentively. 

The sight seemed as gruesome as the Tate murders. Bodies laying on the linoleum floor, head covered with pillows and a blanket. The woman had a lamp cord around her neck while the man had what seemed like a kitchen knife rooted in his stomach. But what caught her eyes the most was the pictures of some writings on the walls. Writings similar to what had been found at Cielo Drive. 

“Look like we’ve got a recidivist on our hands,” she sighed, handing him back the pictures. “Just great.”

“What do you mean?” He asked, confused. “You think it’s been done by the same person? Or people?” 

“You don’t?” She looked up at him, exasperated. “The proceedings look the same, the scene too. It’s either the same or a huge ass coincidence.” 

“But we have suspect in custody — ” he protested but she cut him short quickly. She didn’t have it in her to tolerate incompetence today. 

“A witness, most likely, not a suspect.” She got up, 

“And with this new murder, I doubt Garretson had anything to do with the first one, anyway since he has spent the night in a cell. Let him out, there is no evidence against him ” 

“But — ”

“I said let him out,” Claire grabbed her jacket and bag, to be on her way to Los Feliz. _Seemed that today was also going to be a very long day._

***********

“Refills, Lady Jane!” Joe grinned, bringing new drinks to their little table in the bar. 

The place wasn’t crowded but it was noisy and smoke hung heavily in the air and in her nostrils. But she didn’t care. It had been too long of a day not to spend some time with Joe, around a little dram of whisky. _Or five._

“I should stop, it’s getting to my head and I have yet another early morning call tomorrow,” she rationalised, taking one of the glasses anyway. 

“That’s exactly why you need some liquid courage, darling,” he sat down next to her again, nudging her side. “You have been working too much!” 

“And it’s not healthy to look at dead bodies all day long and not think about something else afterwards.” 

“You know what’s funny?” She looked at him and took a sip. 

“When I was a kid, I couldn’t stand the sight of blood or wounds. Now here I am walking around crime scenes like I’m in a museum admiring all the details and tiny things about it all.” 

Joe chuckled, “Some people got to do it, LJ, or crimes would never get solved.” 

“I guess you’re right,” she smirked, looking around the bar. She had stopped by her house around the corner to change before meeting Joe here. She was tired of seeing herself in proper clothes for the office and instead, opted for a short linen dress and leather cognac sandals. 

“You should show up to work dressed like this once, I bet Christie would have some kind of heart attack!”

“Most of them already think I’m not fit enough for the job, if I show up in a dress, I’m good to make coffee and answer the phone with Jane.” Claire rolled her eyes, taking another sip. 

“Men,” she let out a noise of mild disgust. 

“Don’t you find it weird Christie likes you and yet, his jealousy of your position blinds him completely up to a point he behaves in a very weird way when he’s around you? I must admit I find it almost quite endearing,” Joe laughed, shaking his head. 

“I don’t find it charming, at all,” she made a face, shaking her head. “Forget about his terrible flirting ways, he’s not my type anyway.” 

“Why not? He’s cute! And after all, what is your type? I’d like to know,” Joe leaned closer, grinning. “Not for me, mind you. You’re not hairy enough not manly enough to be my type, sorry, Beauchamp.” 

“I don’t even know what my type of men is. I haven’t thought about it in a really long time, actually.” 

“You like them tall and ginger,” Joe wiggled his eyebrows. “Scottish too, too bad for Christie, he only fits the Scot parameter.”

Claire shrugged and leaned back, ignoring Joe’s insinuation. She thought enough about Jamie without needing anyone’s help. “I don’t know what you are talking about.” 

“Oh come on! You were the one telling me all about your little hippie adventure back at the ranch!”

“It wasn’t an adventure. I was undercover and I made a friend, that’s all,” she looked around, ignoring his inquisitive look. 

“Who are you trying to convince here?” Joe asked, smirking. 

Grinning, Claire finished her glass and turned to him, “There is a lad at the bar staring at you. Why don’t you go and see what’s that one about, uh?” 

“Yeah, change the subject,” he grinned, getting up. “I’ll go and see for myself what this gentleman wants from me.” 

“And I’m going home,” she got up, grabbing her jacket. “Be careful?” 

“Promise,” he smiled, hugging her tightly. “See you at the office, boss.”

“See you,” she smiled, paying for the drinks and left the bar. 

The second Claire stepped out of the bar, the heavy and thick air of August hit her face like a pile of bricks, not much helping the alcohol-induced headache forming against her temple. Thankfully, the walk to her house wasn’t very long and the street was quiet. 

Actually, the headache wasn’t completely due to the alcohol’s fault. It had been a long day from what already seemed to be like a long week. First the Tate murders, now the LaBianca’s. Two events in the space of two nights, related, she was sure. Yet, nothing tangible enough to prove her theory. She still had no motives and the only suspect they had arrested wasn’t really one. 

Claire turned a corner when she came into direct contact with a man, sending her flying before he quickly grabbed her arm to steady her. Apparently, her day could get worse. 

“Christ,” he mumbled, looking down at her. 

She looked up, realising whose arms she had landed into.

“Jamie.”

He looked worse for wear. _Tired_. His clothes dirty and his eyebrow cracked open, blood dripping from it. “You’re hurt -”

“‘Tis nothin’, Sassenach,” he brushed off, pulling away from her rather quickly. “I’m sorry I almost hurt ye, I dinna see ye coming.” 

Claire grabbed a tissue from her bag and handed it to him, “What happened to you?”

“’Tis nothin’,” he repeated, looking around as if to see if no one was following him. 

“It doesn’t look like nothing,” she watched him, “Look, I don’t live very far from here, let me take a look at his. It needs cleaning -- ”

“Nay,” he smiled softly, pressing the tissue against his injury. “I’ll be fine. I’ve got a thick head, dinna fash.”

“You probably need sutures,” she protested, ignoring him.

“I have to go again,” the scot started to walk but she grabbed his hand, making him stop in his tracks. 

“Is someone after you?” She asked, growing worried for him. She was glad to see him, nonetheless. She had missed him, she admitted to herself. 

“I just had a wee argument with some lads, aye? Nothin’ to worry over.” 

Claire could tell he was lying, but she let him. 

“I have to go again, truly.” His eyes locked with hers, a plead floating into their blue colour and for the first time since she had met him, she felt a cold sweat of panic strolling down her neck. However, she couldn’t let him go. 

“You can stay the night at my house if you need and leave tomorrow morning after some breakfast and a shower -- ” she watched him, selfishly hoping he would say yes. Even if she didn’t know how she would explain anything to him. 

“Go home, Sassenach,” Jamie touched her cheek. “Just go.” 

“Take some money, at least?” Claire looked into her bag again and took out two twenty dollars bills. “That’s all I have on me but take it.” 

“No,” he protested, shaking his head. 

“Take it.” She took his hand and put the money into his palm, remembering the softness of his skin. 

Their eyes met for a brief moment, locking together into the dim light of the street. She couldn’t force him to come with her. She didn’t know what he was running away from and he wasn’t about to say a word, either. 

“Thank ye,” he said softly, leaning down to press his lips against the cold skin of her cheek. 

Claire closed her eyes at that, trying not to think of the way his lips had tasted that night they had kissed at the ranch. She had been another person then. _A lie who wasn’t meant to get caught._ Being in Jamie’s simple presence right now was a risk she shouldn’t take. 

And yet, she couldn’t help herself. 

“Go home,” he whispered, though rather firmly, and walked away from her. 

“Jamie!” 

Disappearing into the night, the scot left Claire with more questions than answers. _Her head spinning and her heart pounding._


	4. Sorcha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, guys! I love to read what you all think Jamie is up to! Keep it up. 
> 
> Enjoy <3

**_August 14th 1969_ **

It had been three days since Claire had met an injured Jamie near the bar. 

Three days where she’d be relentlessly looking around for him — her heart stopping at every sight of red hair. In truth, she had not talked to Jamie since leaving the ranch a few months prior. That day, they had gotten back from Venice Beach to find the place raided by the police and most of the people arrested by Claire’s team, just the way it was planned. 

Jamie had told her to leave, then. _Ordered, really._ And even if she had known that eventually, she would have to, her heart broke just a tad. In the short weeks they had spent together, she almost forgot about the job she was doing. _Almost_. And Claire let herself be carried by a wave of freedom. She was attracted to Jamie. Attracted in a way she had never been towards anyone else before. However, that attraction was one thing she couldn’t indulge in during an undercover mission. And one she had to forget as soon as it was over. 

“Boss?” The Scottish accent took her out of her thoughts and made her look up. It was Tom’s and not Jamie’s, much to her disappointment. 

“Are you listening or what?” Christie asked, watching her inquisitively. 

“I stopped listening to your nonsense about twenty minutes ago,” she leaned back in her chair, rubbing her temples. 

Tom sighed, sitting in front of her. “What if I’m right? Maybe it was some sort of sex play turned bad and maybe they were all intoxicated — ”

“Explain how the toxicology report came back without any trace of drugs or alcohol, save for some weed in Sebring’s bloodstream?” 

“What if it was a satanic execution like the newspapers suggest, then?” 

“Officier Christie, throw those rags away,” she looked at him exasperated. It was enough that most of the people in LA believed what the press was saying, she didn’t need her team to start doing so as well.   
  
“We’re not supposed to be influenced by what the press is saying, even more, when it’s such bullshit. They don’t know any details of the case like we do. There were blood inscriptions on the walls, would you be so kind as to tell me, in your opinion, which one of the victims rose up from the dead to do it and then gently went back to lay down on the floor? Or the grass outside?” 

“No ma’am…” 

“Then stay quiet.” Claire patted his arm and got up. 

She stood by the wall, carefully examining the pictures of the crime scenes like she didn’t know them by heart already. _Maybe something had escaped her? A detail she had not seen?_ It would be easier to concentrate if her mind wasn’t clogged by the thought of Jamie _— and the fact she had seen him on the murder site she was investigating._

“Do you have the list of all the people who lived in that house before the Polanskis?” She turned her head to look at Tom who was already up on his feet, file in hand. 

“Yes,” he walked over to her and handed her the list. “It’s not very long since Altobelli didn’t start renting it until three years ago.” 

“I know we’ve interviewed all of them but something must have escaped us,” she read the names over and over again. Names of famous people she knew and who had no reasons to be involved in these murders, or so she thought.

“What if it was just a case of the wrong place at the wrong time?” Tom looked at her, seriously this time. 

“What if some people simply decided to target those random houses and kill everyone inside for no reason other than causing fears? You might be right about both times being by the person or people but what if it has anything to do with much more than that?” 

“If that was their intent, it’s a success,” Claire put the file away and sat on her desk. “Everyone in this city is paranoid and freaking out, now. They believe they’ll be killed if they forget to close a door or lock a window.” 

“Can you blame them?” He sat next to her, looking at her with a slight smile. 

“Not really,” she smiled back, adjusting her round glasses. “But it doesn’t help solve this case any faster.”

“Do you know how beautiful you are, even when you’re worried?” He said softly, his cheeks turning bright red.

“Christie, are you trying to flirt with your boss?” Her eyebrows rose in questions. 

“Well…yes.” He got up, clearing his throat as his cheeks suddenly grew crimson. 

“Safe your efforts, it’s not going to work,” she said seriously, not being able to prevent the grin forming on her lips. 

Getting up, she gathered her things and packed her satchel, “I’m out of here for the weekend, let’s hope Monday brings answers and that we can actually progress on this shitshow because I’d like to move on and think about other things.” 

“You wouldn’t happen to want to come to have a drink with me, would you?” Tom’s sudden shyness was actually rather sweet and she almost said yes. 

_Almost._

“No,” she said simply — her parents had taught her from a young age that _‘no’_ was, indeed, a full sentence. 

“We work together, if I go out with you for a drink, I’ll have to start to be friendly with you at the office.” 

Her remark made him chuckle and he nodded, “Verra good point, boss. Have a good weekend, then.” 

“You too,” Claire put on her sunglasses and left the office after another long and excruciating day. Not that she believed she’d stop thinking or working on this case for the weekend but it would help to do it at home, by herself. 

Tom’s idea to go have a drink wasn’t so terrible, after all. She needed a stiff one. _Probably quite a few._ And she decided to go to her local bar alone instead of drinking at home by herself. 

The bar wasn’t crowded for a Friday evening since the weather was too good to enclose oneself in a narrow place reeking of alcohol and cigarettes. Claire’s headache was pressing on her temples, one that hadn’t left her since she started working on the case, but she ignored it. 

She sat on a high stool, her back to the entrance, and ordered a glass of whisky — very dry, no ice. She didn’t plan on staying very long and was quite looking forward to going home and succumbing to slumber in the comfort of her bed. 

“Thank you,” she smiled at the bartender who had just given her a glass and she paid for it. Taking a long sip, she let the liquid burn down her gullet and closed her eyes for a brief moment. 

Among the noise, Claire managed to hear the bell from the door opening — and she felt a shiver running down her spine, goosebumps erupting on her skin all of a sudden.

Slowly, she turned her head around to look at who had just walked in. Her vision was blurred by the headache. Her ears deafened by the noise but she saw him perfectly. Her heart skipped. 

_Jamie._

The tall scot was standing by the door, looking around for a place to sit. Their eyes locked and she felt something in her stomach flip — a mixture of relief to see him and fright, all at once. Not because she was afraid of him but because she was scared her cover would be blown. 

Jamie hesitated for a brief second, not knowing what to do just as much as she did. But then, he walked towards her. His steps slow and heavy, it seemed. He was wearing the same clothes she had seen him in a few days ago, carrying his bag over his shoulder and his eyebrow still injured, badly covered with a bandaid. His cheek bruised and swollen. He looked worse for wear and she simultaneously wanted to hold him tightly and yell at him for being reckless. 

_She did neither._

“Sassenach,” he said in a low voice, barely audible in the rumble of the bar. His lip flicked up, a soft smile forming. Almost as if he was relieved to see her. 

“Jamie,” she answered, at a loss at what to do. _What to say._

“Are you alright?” Her worried tone wasn’t lost on him but she couldn’t have helped it. She had spent the last few days worried sick about him. Wondering where he was or what had happened. The sight of him was like a wave of relief washing over her, no matter the circumstances. 

Without a word, he sat on the empty stool next to her and nodded, smiling, “Aye, dinna fash. I’m fine, truly. Just a wee bit bruised but nothin’ my thick head canna handle.” 

“What happened to you the other day?” She looked at him, handing him her whisky. 

“Nothin’ to fash yerself over,” he shook his head at her drink and instead, ordered one of his own. 

“Just a wee fight wi’ a lad who wanted to steal my stuff, ye ken how these things go.” 

Claire knew when people were lying to her, that was one of the perks of her job. And he wasn’t telling her the truth, she knew that much. But she continued her little interrogation, “Have you been sleeping on the street?” 

“On the beach, aye,” he smiled, looking at her, “‘Great weather for it.” 

“What about the ranch?” She asked, frowning. 

Claire knew most of the people over there had been taken into custody a few months back but most of them were out now and the owner of the Ranch was still living on the site, letting the members of _the family_ do as they please around the place. 

“I left a few days ago,” his jaw tightened after he took a sip of his own whisky. 

“I wasna goin’ along with them all anymore.” 

Claire did the math in her head and wondered what took him to leave such a place all of a sudden. _A place he had called home for months._ A place he was deeply attached to. She also knew she had seen him on a murder site a few days ago but stayed quiet about this. After all, he didn’t know who she really was and she couldn’t risk it. Even if he had seen her, too. 

“Do you have a place to sleep tonight? Other than the beach?” She asked, an impulse taking over her. She was playing a dangerous game — and she wasn’t thinking like the detective she was supposed to be. 

“Nay,” he answered sincerely, watching her. 

“Look, I live just a block away. I don’t have a spare bed but the sofa is comfortable enough and I don’t mind sleeping on it — ”

“I canna take the bed away from ye, Sassenach,” he smiled softly, finishing his drink. 

“Well I don’t mind, really,” she smiled, touching his hand. 

“And we used to share a room when I stayed at the ranch,” she reminded him. 

_Share a bed, actually._

Nothing ever happened beyond sleeping but most mornings than not, Claire woke up wrapped safely in his strong arms and she couldn’t quite shake the feeling away from her. 

“Aye, I recall but I dinna want to be a bother to ye, Sassenach — ”

“You are not a bother,” she cut him off immediately, “Or I wouldn’t ask you. I just don’t think you should be sleeping outside and fighting over your bag with dudes — ”

He grinned, looking at her, “Ye dinna like the bruised look?”

“Not really no,” she smiled, carefully touching his cheek. The stream of attraction they once shared was still very much there. _Tangible_. Both of them felt it but neither said a word about it. 

“And your eyebrow hasn’t been cleaned properly, I’ll fix it before you get yourself an infection.” She finished her drink and got up. 

“I dinna have a choice in the matter, do I?” Jamie got up, grabbing his bag and started to follow her outside of the bar. 

“You don’t, I’m glad you realise that.” 

Instinctively, Claire grabbed his hand, feeling the warmth of his skin radiating against her palm and lead him towards her little house. 

Together, they walked in a comfortable silence towards Claire’s home. She had to let go of his hand to grab her keys, feeling his eyes observing her. 

Opening the door, she looked at him and smiled softly, “After you.” 

The scot gave her a comforting smile — one that soothed any doubt she had of bringing him here and walked inside the house. She closely followed him and closed the door behind them, turning on the light, “Make yourself at home, Jamie. I’ll go and grab something to clean your wound.”

“Aye, thank ye,” he said, putting his bag next to the sofa, his eyes carefully scanning the surroundings. 

“‘Tis a nice place ye have,” she heard him say while she was in the bathroom. 

“Yeah, it’s cosy,” she answered a bit louder for him to hear her. 

“How long have ye been livin’ here?” 

She froze, alone in the bathroom, and tried to think of something quick to say. Claire was glad he couldn’t see her glass face, right now. She took a long breath and collected herself before walking out of the bathroom and back into the main living area where Jamie was waiting. 

“I uh…I found this place soon after I left the ranch. I got a bit of luck, actually,” she smiled, looking at him who was clumsily standing in a corner. 

“You can sit down, I’ll take a look at your eye,” she gestured her hand towards the sofa and he nodded before sitting on it. 

Claire took place next to him and opened the bottle of disinfectant, coating gauze with it. She turned her attention towards the scot and reached up to remove his questionable bandaid. Very slowly, she pulled on it and saw his eye twitch. 

“I’m sorry if that hurts but I’m not sure it actually didn’t make your injury slightly worse.” 

Jamie watched her attentively, his lip flicking up in an amused smile, “I’m no’ verra skilled, I just used what I had in my bag, Sassenach.” 

“You could have let me take care of that back then instead of running away into the night, blood dripping down your face,” she took the gauze and started to clean his wound. 

“It was for a more dramatic effect, ye ken,” he chuckled softly, biting his bottom lip not to wince at the alcohol. 

“Congrats, it worked,” Claire held his chin, her eyes examining his wound with a serious expression on her face that made the scot smile even more. 

“You know it’s not safe to sleep in the streets in general but these days, it’s even less recommended — ” She attentively watched something switching in his eyes. Anguish taking over, almost. His smile dropping at once. 

“With the murders that have been happening and everything.” She added. 

“Aye, ‘tis no’ safe,” he said softly, his eyes looking down. “But Los Angeles has never been verra safe, Sassenach.”

“Getting inside people’s homes to start killing them is another story,” she made him a fresh bandage and looked at him. “You’re all good now.” 

“Thank ye, Lizzie,” his eyes followed her as she got up and slightly froze at the mention of her fake name. 

“Do you want a cup of tea or something?” 

The Scot nodded, still watching her, “Could I use yer bathroom too? I think I’m in need of a shower.” 

“Of course, the bathroom is at the end of the hall,” she cleaned up, managing a smile. “Suit yourself and I’ll make you some tea while you’re in there.” 

Jamie got up in turn, giving her a tender smile, one that made her bones melt in a second and her knees slightly wobble. Pulling herself together, she went to the kitchen before he had the time to go to the bathroom. 

The kettle boiling on the stove, Claire leaned against the counter and collected herself for a brief minute. She could hear the water running in the other room, her mind clogged with the images of Jamie in the shower — droplets running down his naked body. Shaking her head, she rubbed her temples and pulled herself together. 

After a few minutes, she poured his tea and went back into the living room to wait for Jamie, the steaming mug resting on the coffee table along with some cookies. She still had no idea what she was doing with him in her home. No idea of how to proceed, either. 

Jamie reappeared into the living room, one of her towels wrapped around his waist and his red hair damp, “I uh…I forgot my bag in here, Sassenach.” He said shyly, quickly grabbing his bag and disappearing into the hall again. “I’ll be right back.” 

Nodding, her eyes followed him out — unable to take her gaze away from his body. Back at the ranch, she had fought against her attraction to Jamie. Fought to stay focused on her job but it had been hard to separate the two. To keep her head cold and her heart locked. He still thought her to be called Lizzie, her cover wasn’t blown. _At least not yet._

“Christ I had missed a warm shower,” he stated, walking towards her dressed in a pair of jeans and a khaki t-shirt. He dried his hair with a towel and sat down next to her. 

“And thank ye for yer hospitality — ”

“It’s alright,” she handed him the mug, smiling. “Careful, it’s hot. I got you some cookies, too.” 

“I’m glad to see ye again, Lizzie,” Jamie said softly as he took the tea and looked at her. 

“Jamie…” Claire sat up straighter, her eyes not leaving his. “I need to tell you something.” 

He frowned, taking a sip of his tea, “What is it? Do ye want me to go?” 

“No, it’s not that. You can stay here as long as you need,” she touched his arm in a reassuring gesture. 

“It’s about me…my name is not actually Lizzie,” she started, noticing the confusion plastered all over his face. 

“It’s Claire.” 

“Claire,” he repeated, the name slipping off his lips as if it had been made for him only to say. “Why didn’t ye say so, Sassenach?” 

“I didn’t know where I was going when I arrive at the ranch, I thought it would be a better idea to use a fake name, just in case, you know? Well, in truth, my middle name is Elizabeth so I changed it slightly to come up with Lizzie.” 

When lying, to stick to the truth as much as possible was the way to go. It was the first lesson she learned when she started working for the LAPD. 

“Aye, I understand,” he smiled, touching her hand. “Dinna fash about it. And I have to admit Claire suits ye better.” 

“Oh well, thank you,” she felt the heat rose in her cheeks. 

“Sorcha, ‘tis yer name in Gaelic. It means light.” 

“Sorcha,” she repeated, smiling. 

Their hands caressed one another. Jamie touched her bracelet — the one he had gifted her, and smiled, “You kept it?” 

“Of course,” she smiled, their eyes meeting again. 

“How have ye been?” 

“Fine, I haven’t been on the run or sleeping on the beach,” she nudged him, smiling. “What really happened at the ranch that made you leave?” 

Jamie ran his fingers through his damp curls, avoiding her eyes all over again. “Since Charlie was bailed out of jail two weeks ago, things became really no’ good up there. ‘Tis better that I left, trust me.” 

“You know, I’ve never met him but from what I gathered, he’s quite the character,” Claire leaned back, attentively watching his reactions. 

“Ye could say that, aye.” Jamie shrugged, something in his eyes shifting. 

“He’s just been going on and on about his music — because he wants to be famous, ye see. And one of the guys he had met in Hollywood promised him a contract and shit, but of course, didn’t follow through. Since then, he’s been banging on and on about Terry Melcher and what an asshole he is. The atmosphere at the ranch changed and became quite…quite toxic.” 

“Terry Melcher,” Claire said softly, the name vaguely familiar to her. 

It took only some brief seconds for the information to travel through her brain and for her to remember the list. The list of all the people who had previously lived on Cielo Drive before the Polanskis. Terry Melcher and his girlfriend, Candice, had moved out of the place three weeks before Sharon Tate and her husband moved in. 

“Well, I’m glad you’re out of there if it became toxic,” she admitted sincerely, trying to hide the wheels turning in her head. Something was brewing and she had to connect the dots. Every piece of the puzzle slowly getting into place. 

“You must be exhausted,” she squeezed his hand before getting up. “I’ll let you rest and like I said, you can stay here for as long as you need, Jamie.” 

Looking up at her, he smiled warmly but something was floating in his eyes, “Thank ye, truly, Sassenach.” 

_That night, Claire barely slept._

Her mind going a mile a minute about everything. Sometime around 3am, she heard the scot tossing and turning in the living room. Whimpering even, sometimes, as if he was having a nightmare. Getting up, she made her way towards him, her steps slow and heavy on the cold tiled floor. 

The few times she had watched him sleep, back at the ranch, she had noticed a smile plastered on his beautiful face. This time, however, the expression of his face was miles away from the peaceful one she was used to seeing. 

And for the first time since meeting him, Claire was frightened. Not for her safety but for the kind of things he might have seen. _Or worse, what he might have done._


	5. Playing with Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading and for the lovely feedback on this story! I’m so excited to share the next few chapters with you all! 
> 
> Enjoy<3

_**August 15th 1969  
** _

When Claire woke up that morning, the smell of grounded coffee took residence in her nostrils as she heard cupboards closing and opening. _Gaelic curses._ _The Bialetti whistling on the stove._

And the knowledge that the scot hadn’t fled her house in the early hours made something in her stomach settle. 

She had succumbed to slumber somewhere around 4am, after hours trying to find sleep while listening to Jamie mumbling in his own. He had nightmares, she could tell that much — and she had briefly contemplated the idea of waking him up before she heard him go to the bathroom. 

Claire spent a while in bed, not knowing what to tell him once she’d come face to face with the scot in the kitchen. She was also famished, which meant she wouldn’t be able to hide for very long. She quickly glanced towards the clock on the wall, indicating it was almost 11am. The perks of the weekend, she thought. At least, she didn’t have to wake up at 7 to go to work today. 

After ten more minutes, she decided it was time to get up. Grabbing her bathrobe, she put it on on the way towards the kitchen, the sun coming in through the windows and almost blinding her. She didn’t check herself in the mirror and realised her mass of curls must be looking ridiculous like it did every morning. 

She stopped at the door and leaned against the frame, observing Jamie. 

He had set a table, opened the window and was now meticulously buttering the toasts. The sun reflected on his copper hair and she had to fight the urge to run her fingers through the curls.

“Good morning,” she finally said, making him slightly jump in the process. 

“Sassenach,” he looked at her, his surprised expression quickly switching to one of delight. “I didna hear ye there.” 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” she smiled, walking towards him. 

“Dinna fash,” he smiled softly, collecting himself and putting the coffee on the table. “I hope ye’re hungry?” 

“Ravenous,” she admitted, stealing a toast from the plate he was holding before sitting down. 

Jamie sat in turn, looking at her, “I’m sorry I helped myself in the kitchen but since ye were still asleep, I thought I’d make some breakfast — ” 

“I told you to make yourself at home, Jamie,” she smiled and touched his arm in a reassuring gesture. “Plus, I don’t get breakfast made for me very often so it’s a very welcomed convenience.” 

“Well ‘tis just toast and some coffee, nothin’ grand,” he chuckled, pouring the coffee into the cups. 

“My breakfast of choice.” Smiling, she took a bite of toast. 

“I ken,” he looked at her, then. His blue eyes twinkling with memories of the breakfasts shared together when she was at the ranch. “Except maybe, I dinna butter the toasts as much as ye would do it.”

Claire chuckled, “I’m going in for the full clogged artery thing, It’s very bad but can’t help myself. There’s also some peanut butter in the cupboard if you’d rather — ” 

“I’m fine, thank ye,” he took a sip of coffee, closing his eyes to enjoy the aroma. 

Claire yawned, letting a comfortable silence take over the room while they shared breakfast together, once more. _As if it was a settled routine between the two._ As if they were not barely strangers, at all.

_Questions burned her lips._

Questions she desperately wanted to ask him _— but she refrained_. If there was something she knew, it was not to rush an investigation. Even more, when the person she was investigating was a man she was deeply attracted to. 

_Answers would come, in time._

After taking a bite of her second toast, she decided it was time to start. Nonchalantly, she asked, “How did you sleep?

Jamie shrugged, “No’ verra well, if I’m honest wi’ ye.” 

“I’m sorry the sofa isn’t the most comfortable place to sleep for such a tall man, I should have given you the bed — ”

“Nay, it was comfortable. I just haven’t been sleepin’ verra well these past few days,” his eyes dropped to look into his empty cup. Almost as if he was trying to find something in it. Or simply escape her glance. 

“It’s been too warm to sleep properly.” Claire watched him attentively, eating. 

_Something was troubling this man._ Something she had to find out. She remembered the way he was at the ranch and something in his eyes _— some glimmer —_ was missing. 

“And I’m sorry the first thing you had to see this morning was a medusa with crazy hair _—_ ”

Her remark made him laugh _—_ a deep and earthy sound coming right from the pit of his stomach and resonating into the kitchen. Bringing a lightness to the heavy atmosphere that had settled over in the last minute. 

“Ye look as lovely as ever, Sassenach,” Jamie smiled, reaching over to stroke a curl away from her face. 

“Do ye know that Medusa was known to turn any man who looked into her eyes into stones?” He asked softly, his eyes locking with hers.

“That’s a terrifying thought, don’t you think?” She reached for the towel without taking her eyes off his and slowly wiped off his milk moustache.

“Slightly, aye.” His lip flicked up into a shy smile. 

Claire brought her cup up to her lips to busy them with the coffee before she’d cave in and kiss him. Clearing her throat, she leaned back, “So, any plans for the day?” 

“I was wondering if ye would cut my hair, Sassenach?” 

“Cut your hair?” She wasn’t quite expecting that. 

Frowning, she crossed her arms, “Are you sure you trust me with such a task?” 

“Just a wee trim, it’s needed,” he chuckled, looking at her with puppy eyes. “Please?” 

“Fine.” Claire concurred, shaking her head of curls with a grin. “But don’t blame me if you end up with a bad haircut.”

“I promise I willna — but maybe ye had other plans for the day?”

“I just thought about going to the beach, if you care to join me? I can cut your hair once we get back later,” Claire finished her toast and got up, putting her dirty plate and mug into the sink. She turned to look at Jamie again, waiting for his answer. 

He nodded, smiling, “Aye, let’s go to the beach, Sassenach.” 

**********

“Do ye come here often, Sassenach?” Jamie asked as they were walking along Venice’s boardwalk. 

The place was packed with tourists and locals alike. A pathway of palm trees and hills in the distance. Claire might be living here for ten years, the sight still had the power to make her heart beam. It was home, after all. 

“Not often enough, no.” She looked at him, smiling behind her big black sunglasses. 

“I remember when I was a child, I wanted to live near the beach and I thought if I ever did, I would be in the water every day. I guess when you’ve got something so close, you forget the thrill the idea used to bring you.” 

“Verra true.” He watched her, their hands brushing as they walked. “But ye like living here, aye?”

“I do,” She said sincerely, smiling. “I really do. The light alone makes it worth it. There’s nothing quite like it anywhere else.” 

“I miss the rain,” Jamie grinned. “I’m a scot, after all. I canna help myself.” 

“Then the few times it does actually rain, it makes it special.” Claire reluctantly forgot about grabbing his hand once they made their way on the sand. She laid the blanket on it and removed her sandals. 

“Aye,” he smiled, taking off his t-shirt. “‘Tis no’ the same, though. There is nothin’ better than staying home on a verra cold day, sitting in front of the fire wi’ a good book and listenin’ to the rain tapping against the window.” 

“You can sit on the sand with a book and listen to the waves crashing against the rocks.” She looked over her sunglasses, smirking. Before he could answer, she sat down. 

“One day, I’ll bring ye to Scotland and change yer mind about that,” Jamie sat down next to her, smiling. 

“Is that a warning?” She couldn’t help but grin, nudging him. 

“Nay,” He looked at her, taking her hand. 

“‘Tis a promise, Claire.” 

“I’ll hold you to it, James Fraser,” she said softly, laying her head on his lap and closing her eyes. 

Claire let the sounds of the waves along with Jamie’s gentle strokes of her hair soothe her. Forgetting everything around her and the situation she found herself in. She wasn’t supposed to be a cop, right now. _And she didn’t want to be, anyway._

Time turned into a slow daze. Punctured by swims in the water, in between sharing plates of fruits with one another. They talked about anything and everything. From the weather in Scotland to which peanut butter from Trader Joe’s was the best — Claire preferred the soft while Jamie opted for the crunchy version. 

_Together, they were inseparable._ Like two old friends who had known one another since they were children and were in no rush to leave the beach. But hours passed and the sun started to set, so Jamie and Claire decided to go back to the house on Market Street. 

“I think I’ve got a sunburn on my nose,” Claire exclaimed, carefully studying her reflection in the mirror in the hall. 

“Do ye have some cream for that?” The scot asked, standing behind her. 

“Yeah,” she looked at Jamie in the mirror. “It’s in the bathroom cabinet.” 

He grinned, amused at her focused expression, “I’ll go and get it for ye, Sassenach.” 

Claire turned her head to look at him and smiled, seeing him disappear into the bathroom. She went to the living room and waited for him to get back, laying on the sofa. Her body ached from swimming so much and her hair was still damp but she didn’t care. Her sun-kissed skin felt warm and smelled of sunscreen and it’s been a while she had such a good day. 

“Got it,” Jamie exclaimed and Claire opened her eyes again, looking at him. 

She sat up. “Perfect. Next time I’ll listen to you and put sunscreen on my nose, as well.” 

Grinning, Jamie sat down and opened the bottle, facing her. “Glad to hear so. Dinna move, please.” 

Claire watched him attentively pouring some cream on the tip of his fingers and carefully applying it on her skin. 

“Ouch,” she chuckled, scrunching her nose. 

“Sorry, ‘tis almost done,” he mumbled, slowly rubbing the burnt skin of her nose. 

“There, all good,” he smiled, placing a soft kiss on the tip.

“Thank you very much.” Claire kissed his cheek and got up, “Do you still want me to cut your hair?”

“Aye,” he looked up at her. 

“Come on then,” she smiled, holding out her hand to him. 

Jamie cheerfully accepted and got up, following her to the bathroom, “Will I regret this, Sassenach?” 

“I can’t give you a proper answer, I’ve never given anyone a haircut before. You could either regret it or it could be the best haircut of your life. It can’t be worse than what you have right now,” Claire grinned, getting the scissors from the cabinet. 

“I willna answer this affirmation and simply ignore ye for the time being.” Shaking his head, Jamie bent down and wet his hair under the tape of the sink. He was so tall, the sight was ridiculous and made a laugh escape Claire’s lips. 

“Are ye makin’ fun of me, Sassenach?” 

“I most certainly am,” She grinned, sitting on the edge of the bath, watching him. 

“You could have simply used the shower or the bath and not hurt your back in the process.” 

“Thank ye for yer concern,” he smirked, rubbing a towel on his head. 

Claire got up again and instructed him to sit down on the edge while she stood behind him and put the towel on his shoulders. “Just a wee trim, is that it? Because that’s all I can do for you or a buzz cut but that would be regrettable.” 

“Just a wee trim, aye.” The scot agreed, looking at her through the mirror in front of them. 

Smiling, Claire started by combing his curls back. She noticed how the colour was even more peculiar once wet but didn’t comment on it. While she was concentrated on her task at hand, she didn’t notice how Jamie was watching her, a slight smile on his face. She didn’t cut too much — as his long hair suited him quite a bit and she didn’t want to have him end up with a truly horrendous haircut. 

It took altogether eight minutes for her to be done. Proudly, she looked at him, “Voila! It’s done, Fraser.” 

“Thank ye kindly,” he smiled, looking at himself in the mirror. “Ye’re better at this than ye believed yerself to be.” 

“Yeah, I agree,” she grinned, removing the towel from his shoulders and cleaning up. 

“Sassenach?” Jamie said softly, watching her. 

“Yes?” She turned to look at him, their eyes locking at once. 

“Thank ye for today.” His lip flicked up in a shy smile, reaching for her cheek.

“I havena had fun like that in a really long time. And thank ye for yer hospitality, too.” 

“You can stay here as long as you need, Jamie.” She heard herself saying, melting against his touch. 

Claire felt it again. The tingling of her lips _— burning to kiss his._ She tried to refrain herself, she really did. But in no time, the air in the room seemed to have evaporated and both their faces came closer to one another. _Their lips sealing._ The kiss brought back some memories from the ranch Claire had tried to hold onto for the last few months. 

Jamie’s arms came around her waist, wrapping her in an embrace she never wanted to get herself out from. She felt the sink against the back of her legs and leaned against it while their tongues danced a slow dance with one another. _Lust and need growing in the pit of her stomach._

_A fire. One she had been playing with since they had met. One that would surely end up burning her._

Good judgement and reason had disappeared from her head while she let her heart do the talking. She wanted him and had wanted him since the moment she set foot on the ranch.

_It wasn’t much more complicated than that._

“Jamie…” she whispered against his lips, her cheeks flushed and her heart racing a mile a second. 

Looking at her, he rested his forehead against hers and bit his lower lip, “I’m sorry, I…”

Claire cut him off with a soft kiss and simply said, “I’m not. I want you.” 

“Ye do?” He asked softly, his voice barely a whisper. 

“Yes,” Claire cupped his cheeks, looking at him.

His face illuminated and he relaxed, something in his eyes shifting. _Coming back_. In one swift move, Jamie had lifted her up, her legs wrapped around his waist and was on his way towards her bedroom with Claire in his arms. 

Laying on the bed, she slowly unwrapped her linen dress. Letting it open to reveal her barely covered body underneath. Claire sat up, her eyes firmly locked with his and threw the dress away — somewhere around the bedroom. She proceeded to remove her swimsuit and blushed before she laid back down. 

“Christ, Claire,” Jamie breathed out, watching her. 

“Ye’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” 

“Come here,” she purred, holding out her hand to him. 

Jamie didn’t much more to oblige, quickly removing his own clothes in the process to join hers on the floor. Leaning over her, their lips met again. _Hungrier, this time._ Both giving in to the feral need they had to possess one another. 

As their bodies touched, Claire felt a bolt of electricity go through her bloodstream. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t see. All her senses clogged by one thing only: Jamie. 

_There was no yesterday. No tomorrow. Only a now — nothing else._

There would be repercussions to this but she didn’t care. She would deal with them when the time would come. For once, she was what her job often denied her to be. _A woman._ Listening to her want and needs before anything else. 

They made love. Their bodies dancing slowly with one another between the sheets. Meeting for the very first time _— yet knowing the other as if they’d been doing this forever._

Afterwards, they laid limbs tangled together for a long time. Silence wrapped itself in the room— letting the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks in the distance lullaby them. They shared kisses and whispers. _Secrets_. She felt at once horribly vulnerable and yet completely safe. But then— she had always felt that way with Jamie Fraser.

Claire didn’t fall asleep until the early hours, too busy watching Jamie to succumb to her own slumber. He seemed more peaceful than what she had heard the night before but the usual smile on his face wasn’t back. Her heart pinched faintly at the realisation. 

Eventually, she cuddled against his warm body and closed her eyes, her head resting on his chest. His arms wrapped around her like a safe haven. She had one more day with Jamie before she’d have to go back to work. Back to being Officer Beauchamp. 

_Back to lying to him and everyone at the office._

When she woke up, hours later, she was slightly disoriented. Her body aching pleasantly — a reminder of the previous night. She opened her eyes only to find the sunlight blinding her and closed them again immediately. She reached for Jamie, frowning when she found his side of the bed empty. 

The house was too quiet for him to be either in the kitchen or in the bathroom and a slight panic crept up on her at the silence around her. Rubbing her eyes, she sat up and turned her head only to find her LAPD badge laying neatly on the pillow. 

_Jamie knew what she was and he was gone._


	6. Puzzle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading and all the fedback, folks! I hope you enjoy this chapter as we are slowly finding answers along side Claire. 
> 
> Enjoy!

_**August 17th 1969** _

Claire spent her entire Sunday looking around Venice Beach for any trace of Jamie. _Any hint of where he might have gone._ Her search had been unsuccessful and it was with a heavy heart that she had gone back home that evening, with the faint hope Jamie was waiting for her. 

_He wasn’t._

She couldn’t blame him, after all. _She had lied to him._ Lied about who she was and lied about the circumstances of their first meeting. Claire was also aware Jamie might have run away after finding her badge because he had something to hide — something he was afraid she’d find out. 

_Something she was afraid to find out._

By Monday morning, she was barely awake on her drive to the office. She had not slept properly, her head running a mile a second with thoughts of the scot. _Memories of his kisses. His touches. The whispers echoing in her dark bedroom._

Thoughts still ramping up her mind as she was driving, the wind blowing in her hair and the cigarette dangling from her lips. Jim Morrison’s voice resonated in the car _— not that she could hear much with the windows opened —_ the last notes of _Riders On The Storm_ playing. For once, she was glad about the horrendous traffic, she wasn’t in a hurry to arrive at the office today. 

“Morning, boss!” Jane enthusiastically exclaimed as soon as Claire stepped through the front door. 

“Morning,” she answered, managing a smile. Removing her sunglasses and grabbed the mail from the desk, she quickly made her way towards her office to avoid any small talk she usually had with the young woman. 

She was about to shut her door when Tom appeared, happily walking towards her while holding two mugs, “Coffee?” 

“Oh yes,” she took one of the mugs, that would only be her third this morning. 

Officer Christie frowned, looking at her attentively, “Did you do something to your hair?”

“To my hair?” She touched her mass of curls absently. 

“No, I’m afraid I haven’t brushed my hair in twenty-five years, at the very least. But if that’s your way of telling me I look like shit, I’m already aware of it, thank you.” 

“No, you look lovely,” he smiled, leaning against the doorframe. “Good weekend?”

“Yeah,” she lied and sipped her coffee. Turning around, she walked toward her desk, hiding her glass face in the process. And the weekend hadn’t been a complete disaster, it was only half a lie. 

“I just slept a lot and went to the beach.” 

“Any new theories about the case?” Tom asked, bringing back a subject Claire had almost forgotten about. _Almost_. 

“Some things,” she sat down, looking at him. “About that, could you get Terry Melcher to come back for a second interview today?”

“Melcher?” Christie frowned, confusion growing. “Why?” 

“I feel like I missed some things the first time around and I’d like to ask him a few more questions, that’s all. And make sure he knows he has no other choice than to come and see us _today_.” 

“Aye, alright ma’am,” he gave her a smile and headed out of her office, closing the door in the process. 

Claire leaned back and gulped the last of her coffee. She turned her chair around and started to look at her wall full of pictures and notes — not that she didn’t know exactly what was on it already.   
  
Minutes passed, a cigarette was lit, and a knock came at the door, taking Officer Beauchamp out of the thoughts she had lost herself into for the countless time that morning. 

“Come in,” she rubbed her eyes and looked up at the door opening. 

“Hey Lady Jane,” Joe grinned, leaning against the doorframe. “You came in and you didn’t come and say hi to me,” he pouted, walking inside the office. 

“Sorry, my brain is slightly fried this morning and you always arrive after me, anyway.” She got up, sighing. 

He smirked, giving her a peck on the cheek, “What is up in that curly head of yours?” 

“Sit down, would you?” Claire closed the door, ignoring his suddenly surprised expression. 

“You’re not firing me, are you?” Joe sat down, looking at her. 

“No, you’re going to work here for as long as I do, don’t worry about that,” she chuckled softly, going back to her desk. “It’s about the case, actually. I think I might be onto something — ”

“Oh! Well then, I’m listening,” Joe leaned on her desk, resting his head in his palms. 

“Do you remember that hippie commune I infiltrated a few months ago?”

He nodded, leaning back again, “Yeah but as much as I’m trying, I don’t see the link to a quintuple homicide of a movie star and her friends, LJ.” 

“Neither do I, yet, but Terry Melcher, who is a music producer, lived at Cielo right before Sharon Tate moved in and he used to be friends with that guy Charlie who was running the commune — ”

“How do you know this?” Joe frowned. 

“That, I can’t tell you right now,” she picked up her cigarette resting on the ashtray and puffed on it. “But I promise if this slight information leads anywhere, I’ll tell you everything.” 

“Oh come LJ, you can’t drop something like this on me and then say you’ll tell me later,” he pouted. “I’m not one of your officers and I’m your best friend!”

Claire hesitated, finishing her cigarette. After all, if she could talk to someone, it would be Joe. “Promise me you won’t say shit because I think I might be in trouble.”

“Now I’m worried so you better tell me.” 

“I talked to you about a guy I met at the ranch, you the scot? Jamie,” she started, stopping at the mention of his name. 

“Well I haven’t told this to anyone and I didn’t even find it particularly odd at the time — well I did, but still...I saw him around the estate, the morning we went to check on Cielo and found the bodies.” 

“What do you mean, you saw him?” His eyes widened. “Fleeing the place?!”

“Yeah, sort of,” she said softly. 

“He seemed really distressed and he disappeared as soon as I saw him but his clothes were not stained and I recalled looking at his hands. They were impeccable. At the time I brushed it off and there were so many people at that house with the press and such, I couldn’t follow him.” 

“You’re telling me you had a potential suspect all along and you didn’t say anything?” His voice was low and Joe couldn’t erase the slight shock in it. 

“I didn’t see him on the property, he was coming out of the bushes outside the gate. I don’t even know if he was in there. That’s not my point though. My point is, I saw Jamie again this weekend and he told me he left the ranch which I already found odd. But he also told me Charlie had been bailed out a few weeks ago and he apparently had a grudge towards Terry Melcher.” 

Shaking his head, Joe got up and walked around the office, confused, “LJ, I don’t follow you — ”

“Those folks at the ranch were pretty indoctrinated by Charlie and he wasn’t even there. I think he could have gone with a few of them over at Cielo in order to kill Melcher but instead, they found Tate and the others and killed that group. After all, they dwelled in drugs and firearms and that guy isn’t much about peace as he preached himself to be.” 

“And what about the second murder the day after? Because you seemed pretty sure it was done by the same people — ”

“I haven’t figured that one out yet but I’m sure it’s related, yes. Same approach, same clues left around, same killing methods. If I’m sure of anything, it’s that it was done by the same people,” she affirmed, getting up in turn. 

Joe nodded, leaning against the desk, “Well you could have Jamie collaborate? If he left the ranch, maybe something happened? If he was around Cielo on that day, he must have been with them and, at best, he saw something, at worse...” 

“At worse, he was one of the killers,” she finished his sentence, feeling a shiver running down her spine. She had thought about this many times but every time, she couldn’t believe such a theory. Sadly, she had to remember Jamie was a stranger. _One she barely knew._

“Yeah,” Joe confirmed, crossing his arms. “I mean, it’s the best lead you have so far and you can bring Jamie in for an interrogation.” 

Claire felt silent, her eyes dropping to the floor. “That’s where it becomes difficult…”

“Why? What happened?” 

“I don’t where Jamie is now.” 

“Well, fuck,” Joe exclaimed, raising his eyebrows. 

Another knock at the door prevented Claire to add anything else to his statement and ended the conversation prematurely. She shot him a look and went on to open the door to find Christie.

“Mr. Melcher just arrived, boss,” he smiled. “He’s waiting for you on the second floor. He didn’t protest but he is in a bit of a hurry.” 

“Too bad I don’t care about that,” she rolled her eyes and went to grab her recorder and notebook. 

**********

Terry Melcher looked more like a professional tennis player than a music producer. Dressed in a white polo shirt and matching shorts, he sported a head of short light auburn hair, a thick moustache and a skin full of freckles. He was far more famous from being Doris Day’s son than from his musical career and the bunch of songs he had recorded. Nonetheless, he carried himself with remarkable insurance. 

“Thank you for coming back, Mr Melcher,” Claire smiled politely, turning on the recorder. “I simply wanted to ask you a few more questions about your ties to Cielo Drive — ”

“Do I have to bring in my lawyer? Am I a suspect now?” The man leaned back, almost amused at his situation. 

“Not a suspect, no,” She opened her notebook, “But who knows what you will be when this interview will be over.” 

Her remark erased the sneaky smile off his face immediately and made him sit back up straight again. Not that Claire believed him to be involved in the murders in any way, she didn’t need him to know that. 

“Like last time, please answer the questions clearly and loudly enough for the recorder to pick it up. If you nod or shake your head, don’t forget to word those answers as well.”

“Yes, officer,” he watched her. 

“Do you know this man?” Claire took out a photograph of Manson from her file and handed it to Melcher who closely studied it. 

From his absence of response, she took out another one where Manson had shorter hair and no beard. She repeated her question, “Let me ask you again, do you know this man?” 

“Yes, I do.” 

“Can you name him for me?” She took a sip of water, observing the man in front of her.

“Charlie Manson,” He finally said, handing her back the pictures. 

“Can you tell me what is your degree of relationship with Mr Manson? And how and when you two met?” 

Melcher nodded, “We met last summer at my friend’s Dennis’ house. Dennis Wilson, from the Beach Boys. Charlie lived there at the time and he introduced the two of us. As you know, I work in the music industry and Charlie was an inspiring musician — ”

“ _Was_?” She interrupted him, raising her eyebrows in question. 

“Yeah, at the time. I don’t really know what he does now, I’m afraid. We haven’t seen one another for the last few months.” 

“Why not?”

“I had promised him a recording deal but I didn’t follow through with it...Dennis told me he was terrific but in fact, Charlie can’t sing a proper note to save his life and I think he was simply doing him a favour for bringing girls to Dennis. I also witnessed him getting into a fight with a guy for nothing and I realised he wasn’t the type who could go on and have a successful career. Too temperamental and not talented enough. I didn’t want to lose money, you know?” 

“Right, I see,” she nodded, scribbling some things in her notebook. “Do you think Mr Manson begrudges you for that?” 

“I guess, a bit. Charlie doesn’t like when he doesn’t get what he wants.” 

“Has he ever threatened you? Or assaulted you physically?” 

“Not physically, no. But the last time we saw each other, when I told him I couldn’t sign him on, he became pretty violent towards me, yes. He threatened to kill me.”

“Do you have any witness of that event?” 

He nodded, “My girlfriend, Candice. Dennis was there too.”

“Did Charlie know you lived at Cielo Drive?” 

“Yes, he came up a couple of times with Dennis and some girls who lived with him at the ranch. The last time I saw him was actually at Cielo during a party. It was maybe a month before I moved out of that house.” 

“Do you think Manson might have visited Cielo the night of August 9th to kill you, sir?” 

Melcher blinked, his face decomposing. “You mean…?”

“I mean that maybe Mrs Polanski and her friends were not the people targeted that night. And that maybe they happened to be at the wrong place, at the wrong time.” 

“I don’t know,” he said sincerely. “But I wouldn’t rule it out, no.” 

“Why did you move out of Cielo? It’s a gorgeous property, high up and rather a quiet neighbourhood. It’s a dreamy place to live. Well, it was dreamy.” 

“We, my girlfriend and I, talked about finding something closer to downtown and she didn’t like living up there. She said it gave her the creeps. We got odd phone calls in the middle of the night that didn’t help her fears, too.” 

“Mr Melcher I think I have everything I need from you, for now,” she stopped the recorder. 

“You might get a phone call from me very soon, in case I need you to testify as a witness. Your girlfriend and Mr. Wilson, as well. Nothing is certain for now but thank you for your precious help.”

Terry got up, worry floating in his green eyes, “Officer...Do I need to get myself a security guard?” 

“Better safe than sorry,” Claire got up in turn, offering him her hand to shake. 

**********

Claire left the office very late that evening. Not only because she was head deep in her investigation but also because she was in no rush to return to an empty house. 

She had been too busy to dwell on thoughts of Jamie during the day _— though sometimes, they caught her off guard._ But she knew that once she’d be home, alone, she’d spend her time thinking about the scot and where he might have gone. 

She felt like each step forward she took toward solving the case, she then took ten backwards quickly after. Now, if Jamie went back to the ranch and told people who and what she was, she wasn’t safe, either. 

She pulled her grey Ford Mustang in front of her house and gathered her bag from the passenger seat next to her before getting out. She was so tired and too preoccupied that she didn’t even notice someone was waiting for her on her porch. 

At least, not until she came face to face with a giant red-haired scot sitting on the stairs.

Claire jumped up, both surprised and weary. 

“Jamie.” 

“Sassenach,” he said softly as he got up, the light street reflecting on his face. 

He looked as tired as she did but he didn’t seem angry. Actually, he seemed relieved to see her. 

A heavy silence started to install itself between them both. She didn’t know what to tell him. How to start the conversation _— so she told him the truth:_ “I’m glad you’re here.” 

“Are ye?” He watched her, his piercing blue eyes locking with hers. 

“Yes,” she said sincerely. “I was afraid something happened to you and I wanted to explain myself about all of this — ”

“Ye’re a cop, Claire...” he croaked out, hurt and fear in his tone. 

“Was seducin’ me part of yer job or somethin’?” He asked, his voice breaking. 

“No, I swear to you,” she said sincerely, her heart breaking at what she found floating in his eyes. “I didn’t know I would meet you there and...and I didn’t know I would end up caring so much about you.” 

“I want to tell you everything if you’d let me,” she held out her hand, pleading. 

“Come in?” 

Nodding, Jamie took her hand, his skin warm against her. 

“Aye...” he paused, swallowing before taking a breath, “But I have to tell ye somethin’ first.”

_His voice chilled her, then._

“About what happened the night of August 9th on Cielo Drive.” 


	7. Confessions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some answers coming your way with this chapter! Thank you as always for reading and leaving feedback, it’s so appreciated. 
> 
> Enjoy!

_**August 17th 1969** _

The silence was deafening. _Thick_. Floating in the living room like a heavy fog infiltrating every corner, every vacant spot. 

They both sat next to one another on the battered leather sofa, at a loss for words. Neither one knew how to start. 

_What to say. How to say it._

Both too afraid to admit something that would forever erase the perception they had of each other. Claire wanted to know the truth — what he knew about the night of August 9th _— and yet, she didn’t._

Once he confessed everything, the man she had known would be forever erased from her memory. _Changed_. To let space for a stranger. 

_A murderer, perhaps._

After what seemed like long minutes, she gathered her courage and decided to shatter the silence with one simple sentence: “Tell me everything, Jamie.” 

Her voice was soft but firm, her cold palm coming to rest on his forearm to make him look at her. _Which he did._ His deep blue eyes fearful and anguished, his breath catching in his throat. He seemed like a fragile deer caught in the headlights and the sight altogether broke her heart. All she wanted was to shield him. _Protect him from whatever demons he might be battling._

“You might want to record it, Sassenach,” he answered softly, finally daring to look into her eyes. 

Nodding, she got up and walked towards a chest of drawers. Out of it, she took a tape recorder. She knew whatever he would confess to her would have to be re-recorded at the police station but two copies were better than none at all. 

Without a word, she made her way back towards the sofa and sat down once more, resting the machine on the coffee table. “Take all the time you need and just be as precise as you can, alright? When you want to take a break, you do. Everything at your own pace.” 

Jamie nodded, his eyes dropping to his hands. “Aye.” 

Her heart was beating in her ears. And she tried to control the shaking as her finger pressed on the recording button. It took minutes for Jamie to gather the courage to say anything. She could see the wheels turning _— his shame rising up the surface._ She knew how interrogations and confessions worked but this wouldn’t be like the countless one she had been part of during her career. 

Slowly _— not to rush him—_ Claire clasped his hand in hers. 

Jamie looked up at her, their eyes locking and she gave him a slight nod which he replicated in turn. 

“I spent most of the day down at the beach by myself — I left early that mornin’ to take some time from myself away from the noise of the ranch to reflect. I’d been thinking about leaving for a bit and I wanted to think about what I could do if I left. I didn’t get back there until the evenin’, somewhere around 9:30,” he started, in a low voice _— almost unrecognizable to both of them._

“Charlie arrived a wee bit after I did, I dinna ken where he had been or with whom. I didna ask, either,” he shrugged. 

“And ‘tis no’ like he would have told me the truth anyway, I’m sure of that. He came back wi’ Susan and while he was clean, she was already intoxicated — ” 

“LSD?” Claire asked softly when he paused. 

“Aye. Then a few others took some as well and Charlie called us in the livin’ room for a family meeting. He did that a lot, whenever he wanted to talk to us about things and whatnot. ‘Twas easier to have everyone gathering around him. But when I got there, there were only Susan, Tex and Patty. He told us we were meant to go to Cielo Drive to pay a visit to some old friend of his.” 

“They were all under LSD, as well?” 

“Aye and I was too, a bit.” He admitted, shame taking over as his eyes dropped again. 

Claire reached for him and lifted his chin slowly to make him look at her and continue. She didn’t know what kind of effect this simple gesture had on him. _Like a soothing balm to his heart._

“Charlie said I was to go wi’ them in case anyone would cause us trouble so I agreed. I usually never went out wi’ the group cause I ken what type of things they were doin’, stealing and stuff.” 

Claire raised her eyebrows at the word “ _stuff_ ” which made him expand on this. 

“Beatin’ up people who owed Charlie money for drugs or guns. I’m no’ aware if they ever went and killed other people, Sassenach. And if I had known what we were about to do, I wouldna have gone wi’ them — ” he stopped, the skin of his arms erupting in goosebumps as he gathered the information about the rest of the evening. 

It seemed as if he had to think deeply about what he was going to say next. _As if he had shut out any thought_ _of what happened the night of August 9th._

“We stayed a bit more at the ranch before taking the truck over to Hollywood. Charlie told us to wear dark clothin’, again I didn’t think it had to do wi’ anythin’. I was out of it and I dinna care, I just thought the sooner we’d go, the sooner we’d be back. Tex was drivin’ and I was in the back wi’ Susan…” Jamie let his sentence die and Claire felt a ping of jealousy. _She had been at the ranch._ She had seen the way this girl was all over Jamie and basically all the men around. 

“The drive was uneventful and I wasna payin’ much attention to what was happening, I was tripping. I recall Tex pulling up in the street and tellin’ us he’d go have a look at the place. He came back a few minutes later and I think that’s when he cut the phone wires.”

“Patty and Susan got out of the car in turn and asked me to stay out to see if anything was happening so that’s what I did. I sat in the car until I heard a gunshot and then another. I waited a bit — maybe ten, fifteen minutes — but then I decided to go out and went to see what was happenin’...” 

_Claire knew exactly what gunshots those were._ Steven Parent, found in his car shot both in the chest and in the head. She also realised how hard it was getting for Jamie to articulate the events. 

“Do you want a glass of water?” 

Jamie shook his head briefly before looking at her. His eyes pleading for something. Something she recognized to be a sort of yarn for empathy. The look alone made a shiver run down her spine. 

“I didn’t see Tex nor anyone in the driveway and I walked past the car, no’ paying attention to it. It was so dark I couldn’t see if someone was in it or no. I was walkin’ towards the house when I heard it — ” he stopped, swallowing the lump in his throat before continuing. 

“A high pitched scream that made my skin crawl,” his voice was getting lower by the second. Growing quiet along with his recollection. He didn’t want to remember every sordid detail but he did. _For her._

“The lady came out running past me, followed by Patty who was holding a kitchen knife. At some point, she reached her and they both fell down on the floor. I was about to go and separate them when Patty started to…” he let his sentence die, taking a breath.

“To stab her. I froze...I didn’t know what to do, I should have done something but I couldn’t,” Jamie shut his eyes for a moment, a tear escaping him. “I was frozen in place.” 

Her thumb brushed it away delicately, the meeting of their skin making him open his eyes at once. 

“Patty kept on stabbing until the woman stopped screaming. She got up to go back into the house and barely looked at me, like nothing had happened. I ken it was too late for that woman on the lawn so I followed Patty to see where she was goin’ and to stop her doin’ whatever else she was about to do next. By then, my trip had faded, I was startin’ to understand things clearly and realise what was happening. I will never forget what I saw inside the house when I came in.” His voice was barely a whisper by now and his body had shrieked into the sofa, as if he was trying to hide himself away. The single tear had turned into a silent stream now, his eyes red and puffy. 

“I just fled, instead of trying to stop them further...I just fled,” he croaked out. 

“Like a coward, I ran and went to hide in the nearest place I could find until all the screams stopped...until I heard the car leave the place. I dinna ken how much time passed, I canna remember any of it. I hid and waited until morning as if I was trapped, like a dragonfly in amber.” 

“I guess I must have fallen asleep at some point until I heard another scream that woke me up at once, and it was daylight by then.” 

The housekeeper, Claire guessed immediately. 

“I stayed hidden some more as I heard cars and people comin’ and goin’ all mornin’ long. I couldn’t risk someone seein’ me but I was also afraid someone would find me so after a while I decided to take the wee pathway and leave by the other way — ” Jamie wiped his cheeks with this palm and sniffed, looking at her. 

“That’s when you saw me,” she added, finishing his sentence for him once she turned off the recorder. 

“Aye.” 

“To tell you the truth, Sassenach, I was so out of it, I thought I was hallucinatin’ when I saw ye sitting there. I kept thinkin’ about it but I was sure ‘twas my imagination playin’ tricks on me.” 

Claire cupped his cheek, nodding. It wasn’t odd for him to have felt this way after what he had witnessed the night before. He must have been in shock, by then. Slowly, not to rush him, she wrapped her arms around him and held him in a comforting embrace. 

_At first, Jamie didn’t move._ Almost surprised at what she was doing. But then more time passed, and his arms wrapped around her as well. His head resting on her shoulders and his eyes closing. Without a word, they held one another and he let go. She felt his tears on her skin and she let him cry. For anything, she knew he needed it. _He needed her._

She felt terrible for him but so relieved, at the same time. She never believed him to be a murderer — she was glad her instinct had not deceived her once more. Not only did she have a resolution to the puzzle that had been driving her mad for weeks, but Jamie was also innocent and most likely willing to help the investigation. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was a cop, I...when I saw you on the site, I didn’t know what to think or what to do. I never meant to lie to you.” She looked at him, stroking his curls back. 

“When I first came to the ranch, it was to find out about the drug deals and what was happening, I never thought I’d meet someone like you.” Their eyes locked and her breath caught. 

“I never thought I would get attached to you so much. I tried to fight against it, even. But it didn’t work.” 

His lip flicked up into a smile, “It didna work?”

“No,” she rested her forehead against his. “It didn’t. I just wished we met in other circumstances.” 

“Aye, me too, Sassenach,” Jamie cupped her cheeks, looking at her. 

“What did you do once you left Cielo? Where did you go?” Claire moved closer to him. 

“I went back to the ranch and ‘twas like nothing had happened. Everyone was in a cheery mood, doing their things. I recall Susan was in front of the tv watching the news and telling everyone what they had done. I just...I went to my room and packed my stuff to leave but I waited during the night to do that.” 

“Before you left, did they go to another house to do the same thing that evening? Or do you recall anything that could confirm something of the sort?” 

“Aye,” he nodded. 

“The same group went out again but I said I wasn’t feeling well and stayed behind. I dinna ken what they did, Sassenach only because I left as soon as I could but I saw the pictures in the papers, ‘twas the same proceedings.” 

“Thank you,” she cupped his cheek. “For telling me everything, Jamie.” 

“Thank ye for listenin’ to me and for no’ running away...I’m sorry for the way I disappeared when I saw yer badge, I got so scared.” Another tear escaped him. Another one she delicately wiped away. 

“Scared ye’d send me to jail and scared I’d lose ye,” He breathed out, admitting his fears to her. “Then I realised maybe all that happened between us wasna truly how ye felt and that it was all to catch me.” 

“I swear to you I didn’t bring you here because I thought you had anything to do with the murders. I thought about it, yes but I brought you here because not only did I think you were in trouble, I also couldn’t let you go without the guarantee not to see you again. Not a second time.” 

“My time at the ranch was because of a job but what happened between us there and here, had nothing to do with it.” She rested her forehead against his, resting her palm against his cheek.

“Nothing at all, Jamie.” She added, hoping the honesty in her voice would be enough for him to believe her. 

“I ken, Sassenach,” he whispered, his lips barely an inch away from hers. His breath tickling her skin. Her desires. “I’m sorry I ever doubted you.” 

“I doubted you too, do you forgive me?” Claire looked at his eyes — so mesmerizing. _So enchanting._ She felt his strong arms tightening around her waist. _To shield her. To protect her._ And for the first time in a long while, she finally felt safe again. Reassured and not afraid of what the future would bring. 

“Forgiven.” Jamie kissed the top of her head, holding her close. 

Claire closed her eyes, basking in recovered tranquillity. She remembered the first _— and only —_ time they had kissed one another, at the ranch, in the quietness of the room they had shared. Two weeks after she had arrived. 

_“Sassenach?” Jamie called softly, the late hour and the darkness in the room not helping her see him completely. “Are ye asleep?”_  
  
She had been there for two weeks. Two weeks where her favourite part of the day had been the evenings, back into the room where she could be herself with him. At least a little bit. Jamie was reassuring. Calm and the kindest soul she had ever met. Not that the others were unwelcoming but an unhealthy atmosphere reigned around the place. Everyone either too drugged or indoctrinated to function properly. 

_Her investigation was moving rather quickly— and even if Claire couldn’t wait to be done and go back home. Back to herself. She also wasn’t looking forward to the day she’d have to part with her newfound friend._

_“No, I’m not,” she moved slightly, trying to find a decent position to sleep in. They shared a battered mattress on the floor and the excruciating heat was not a welcome detail in such a tiny and stuffed room. But at least, they were only two people in this one, unlike some other rooms where eight or ten people were sharing a space._

_“It’s too hot to be sleeping,” she sat up, rubbing her eyes. She was wearing a pair of cotton shorts and a bra, which had been her uniform around this place but if she could, she would have taken everything off. She missed her bed and she missed her fan._

_Claire felt Jamie move as he was sitting up in turn. They both could barely see anything, except for the moonlight coming through the tiny window. Quickly, he lit up a candle to bring some light in, given the little lamp next to the bed seemed to be broken._

_“Your candle isn’t going to help with the heat,” she chuckled softly, looking at him. “Not that I’m convinced it can get any worse.”_

_“Enjoy it while it lasts, Sassenach. The heat will only be gettin’ worse as the summer starts,” he smiled, leaning down onto his back again._

_“I can’t wait for a good thunderstorm,” she admitted, laying back in turn. She turned her head to look at him — who was staring at the ceiling, his lip flicking up into a smile at her confession._

_“I’d love to be back in the laird’s room at Lallybroch, the fireplace cracklin’ and the rain pouring outside. Ye’re never too warm in the Highlands.”_

_“It sounds like heaven if you ask me.” Claire turned on her side to watch him, leaning her head against her palm._

_“Maybe ‘tis heaven,” he smiled, looking up at her. “But I believe heaven is different for everybody.”_

_“You miss Scotland very badly, don’t you?” She stroked a curl away from his face and he nodded, shutting his eyes as if he was trying to capture an image of the place he grew up in._

_“I dinna regret leavin’ but I hope I could go back and visit someday, ‘tis part of me after all. ‘Tis home.”_

_“I don’t know what home means,” she said sincerely, reflecting on her childhood around the world with her parents with a smile. “I guess for me, home was a suitcase when I was a child but it was a rather fun way to grow up and my uncle treated me like a little adult.”_

_“Ah, so that’s where the strong-mind comes from eh?” He grinned and she hit his arm playfully._

_“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She couldn’t help but smirk._

_“Ye’ve been here for what, two weeks? And I can see how different ye are from all the other people here. No’ letting anyone tell you what to do or how to think. I like that.”_

_“I’ve always been quite mouthy, I can’t help it.”_

_“And ye dinna snore which is a rather lovely thing about yerself since we share a room._ _”_

_“You’re a furnace which is terrible in this heat. Warmth just radiates from you, no matter how far or how close I am from you — ” her eyes stopped on his bare chest, his toned muscles not lost on her. She stopped herself from looking any lower and laid down again, closing her eyes with a smile._

_“Ye wouldn’t complain about it if we were in Scotland, Sassenach,” Jamie moved on his side, watching her._

_“But we’re not,” she opened her eyes, smiling. She turned on her side, in turn, and watched him. Silence falling in the room once more. She couldn’t deny the attraction she felt towards him. Ever since stepping foot here, it had been pretty clear to her what she felt about James Fraser. She had fought against it and she was determined to fight it up until the moment her investigation would be over._

_Almost absently, they moved closer to one another. Eyes locked. Hands clasped together. Claire felt a tingle on her lips, it wasn’t the first time it happened around him. But it was the first time she didn’t deny it. Slowly, their faces came together, their lips sealing._

They had moved toward the bed, laying in each other’s arms without a sound, safe for their synchronized heartbeats. Claire had a lot to figure out but she knew as long as they were together, they’d be just fine. 

“Jamie?” She said softly, almost afraid to ruin the silence. 

His hand delicately stroked her head of curls in gentle motions, “Aye?” 

“When I met you outside of the bar the other night, you didn’t get into a fight on the beach, did you?” She looked up, resting her chin on his chest. 

“Nay,” he swallowed. “Twas some guys from the ranch who had found me and woke me up. They told me if I ever spoke to anyone or said anything, I’d be done. A warning, ye might say.” 

“They won’t find you here,” she assured him, moving up to stroke his cheek. “And tomorrow, we’ll find a solution to this. I can assure you that much.” 

Jamie brought her hand to his lips, placing a tender kiss on her palm. “What will happen to me now?” He asked quietly, looking at her. 

“Nothing will happen to you,” she whispered, stroking his chin with her index finger. She moved closer and wrapped her arm around his waist. “You don’t have to be scared of me or anyone else, as long as I’m with you.” She added, echoing the words he had once told her. 

To exemplify her promise, she sealed their lips again for the first time that night.


	8. Bubble of Peace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading and supporting this story, folks. I can’t say it enough how much it means to me!
> 
> Enjoy!

_**August 18th, 1969  
** _

Claire was woken up by a ticklish feeling against her cheek. Fingers delicately stroking some curls away from her face — fingers belonging to a very tall and equally sleepy scot, she realised, as soon as her eyes opened. 

“Mornin’, Sassenach,” he said softly, his lip flicking up into a smile. 

His voice was still rough from sleeping and his curls a mess. Yet, the childlike expression on his face made her heart beam. He seemed…more relaxed. _Serene_. Something she attributed to the fact that last night, he had finally removed the weight off his chest and told her the whole story. 

Claire had to admit she felt better, too. The knowledge that Jamie had not killed anyone _— even if she didn’t suspect him to —_ brought her more peace than she could word. She was well aware this case wasn’t over, nevertheless, she wasn’t as worried anymore. 

“Good morning,” she cupped his cheek, smiling. Her eyes weren’t fully opened as the light coming in was blinding her. 

Jamie leaned down, placing a kiss on the tip of her nose. “Coffee is almost ready.” 

“What time is it?” She yawned, rubbing her eyes. 

“Almost seven,” he stroked her hair back. “I dinna ken what time ye wake up usually but I thought…weel, I thought now was a good time.” 

“It is,” she stroked his cheek. “I usually leave for the office at 7:30 but I’m not in a rush to go, this morning. I’ll give Jane a call in a bit and tell her I’d be slightly late. Don’t worry about it.” 

Nodding, he smiled softly. He was calmer but she could tell he was nervous about what will happen to him next. 

Claire sat up, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Let’s have breakfast and talk about all of this, alright?” 

“Aye,” he mumbled against the soft skin of her neck, holding her close. “I’ll go make the toasts while ye dress.” 

“Alright,” she cupped his cheek, smiling. She could sense his need for reassurance so she leaned down and sealed their lips, feeling Jamie relax in her arms. 

Jamie placed a kiss on the back of her neck, whispering. “See ye in a moment, Sassenach.”

He got up before she had the time to respond and held his hand, bringing it to her lips. “I’ll be in the kitchen in a minute.” 

Smiling, Jamie reluctantly let go of her hand and disappeared out of her bedroom. 

Claire leaned back down, closing her eyes for a moment. She’d find something to tell her colleagues in time — right now, her only preoccupation was Jamie’s security and well being. She might try to deny it all she wanted, she had fallen in love with him from the moment she had stepped foot at the ranch and she realised she’d walk through fire for him. 

Getting up, she pulled back her curls into a messy bun to let her neck breathe and looked through her closet for a linen shirt and her trusty pair of Levi’s. Once dressed, she walked out of the bedroom and towards the kitchen, where she could hear Jamie closing and opening the cupboards. 

The smell of freshly brewed coffee hung in the air, much to her pleasure and so did something else but she couldn’t exactly pinpoint what it was. Not until she stood by the doorframe, looking at Jamie stirring slowly into a saucepan. 

“Are you making porridge?” Her lip flicked up into a delighted smile. 

“Aye,” he turned his head to look at her, smiling. “I saw ye had some oats so I thought it would be a good change from yer usual butter toasts.”

“I forgot I got those,” she chuckled softly, walking over to him. “I haven’t had porridge in a really long time. I think the last time was before I moved to America.” 

“How long was that, Sassenach?” He kissed her cheek, plating the porridge into bowls and adding some honey, sliced bananas and raspberries. 

“Almost ten years.” She answered, realising how quickly those years had passed. “Came here when I was just eighteen and I never left.” 

“Ye told me about yer uncle…was that true or?” His eyebrow shot up but he grinned, putting the bowls onto the table. 

“I grew up all over the place with my uncle but also with my parents. The three of them are archaeologists and I followed along until I decided to move here.” Claire brought the coffee mugs on the table and sat down, smiling absently at the memories of her childhood. 

“Why did ye chose California?” Jamie sat down in turn, watching her. 

“I might have been born in England, but I spent most of my life in hot climates like Egypt or Jordan and when I was trying to decide where to settle, I immediately thought about California. Not only because of the ideal weather but also because it’s one of the few places I had never visited.” She took a sip of coffee. 

“I didn’t think I’d stay very long, to tell you the truth. I thought I would travel around but when I got here, it felt like home and I had never experienced that before. I can’t explain it — even when I complain about this city, I can’t quit it.” 

He smiled, starting to eat, “I’ve only been here a few months but aye, I get what ye mean. Though for me, home will always be Scotland, this city comes close second since there isna anythin’ left for me there.” 

“You never told me why you left?” She took his hand. “I mean, you don’t have to. Sorry for being curious.”

“I dinna mind,” he smiled reassuringly and squeezed her hand. 

“I’m an only child, ye ken? Raised by my da after my mam died in childbirth. Twas always just the two of us, until two years ago when he finally found someone else and remarried. I didn’t feel like I fit at home so I wanted to leave. To go anywhere, really. And California seemed like the place to be, where people in need of a home and a family gathered to live peacefully. That’s why I entered the ranch and all. When I met Charlie, he promised me the home I felt like I was missin’.” 

“I’m sorry it ended up not working, Jamie.” Claire stroked his hand slowly, their eyes locking. 

“Dinna be.” He smiled, cupping her cheek. “I came to California to escape my life in Scotland. To find myself…and in a way, I did. I found myself when I found ye, Claire.”

She watched him, almost weeping at the tenderness in his voice. _She was speechless._

He cupped her face, stroking her cheek with the base of his thumb. “No matter what happened or what will happen now, I will never regret comin’ here for that reason alone. I canna, because when I look at ye, I ken I’m home.” 

“Oh, Jamie,” she whispered, resting her forehead against his. 

“Whatever I did, whatever happened…For a while, I thought those bad things happened because I was a bad person but the truth is, those things happened because I had to find my way here. My way to ye, Claire.” 

Cupping his cheeks, she looked straight into his eyes. He was a broken man — long before he had arrived in California. Long before he found himself a witness of a murder scene. All she wanted was to shield him. _To protect him as best as she could._ “For I might not be sure about anything, I’m sure about this. You are not a bad person, Jamie. You just found yourself in a bad situation, with bad people.”

“Ye seem pretty sure abou’ it,” his eyes dropped, not able to meet hers. 

Claire lifted his chin slowly to make him look at her. “That’s because I am. You came here to escape your life in Scotland, to make it work. To find people who would care for you and love you and you found it at the ranch. You couldn’t know it was going to end up in such a way. I understand the guilt you feel, I do, but you have not killed anyone.”

The scot watched her, his eyes tearing up. 

“Unless you have not told me the truth?” She tilted her head, raising her eyebrows. 

“Christ, no,” he shook his head, holding her hand tightly as tears streamed down his cheeks. “I swear to ye, Claire. I told ye the truth, all of it and I’d tell it again to anyone that needs to hear it, no matter the consequences.”

“I know,” she said simply, stroking a tear away. “I know you would, Jamie. Now can you understand why I know for a fact you’re not a bad person?” 

For a moment, he simply watched her. Her eyes. Her tender smile. And he nodded, closing his eyes to let the last of his tears roam free. “Aye.” 

“Good,” she whispered and placed a soft kiss on the tip of his nose. “Now, why don’t you go and have a shower?

“Do ye mean to tell me I reek?” His lip flicked up into a teasing smile, to which she chuckled. 

“No, but I think it’ll relax you a bit,” she smiled, stroking a curl away from his forehead. 

“Ye’re right,” Jamie brought her hand to his lips before getting up. “Ye always are.” 

Smiling, Claire watched as he walked out of the kitchen to go to the bathroom. She wasn’t about to contradict him. 

********  
**

Jamie reappeared twenty minutes later, hair damp and bare-chested, only wearing his pair of rugged denim pants. He seemed calmer, or at least as calm as he could be given the situation. 

“Do you need a t-shirt?” Claire asked, leaning against the kitchen counter, crossing her arms. She didn’t mind the sight but they could not show up at the police station like this. 

“I was plannin’ on wearing my own, Sassenach,” he smiled, almost amused. “But if ye have somethin’ that would fit me, I wouldna complain.” 

“I don’t know about fitting you but it should be large enough,” she smiled, walking over to him. “If you don’t mind Jefferson Airplane.” 

“Jefferson Airplane?” Jamie grinned, following her out of the kitchen and down the hall toward her bedroom. “Are ye a wee bit of a hippie, after all, a nighean?” 

“I might be a cop, it doesn’t mean I’m that boring,” Claire looked over her shoulder at him, a little mischievous grin gracing her lips. 

“Nay, ye’re far from boring,” he agreed, smiling. 

Jamie sat down on her bed, bouncing slightly while he watched her look through her closet for a suitable t-shirt for him to wear. He felt safe here, in her home, where no one but Claire knew where he was. But he couldn’t deny the panic creeping upon him. The uncertainty of what would happen to him the moment he’d follow Claire back to the police station to deposit his statement of what happened on August 9th. 

Turning around, Claire held up the t-shirt, “Do you think that would fit? That’s the largest one I have.” 

“Ye promised me Jefferson Airplane but that’s Janis Joplin — ”

“If you insist, I can give you Jefferson Airplane and you’ll be wearing a lovely crop top,” she grinned, leaning against the wall as she watched him. 

Jamie chuckled softly, holding out his hand to her, “Janis Joplin works just fine, then.” 

She handed him the t-shirt but he immediately put it onto the bed, looking at her again with his hand held out to her. 

Claire smiled, then, a sweet and warm smile no one had given him for a very long time, and he just wanted to weep at the tenderness in her eyes. She grabbed his hand, her skin soft against his calloused fingers. 

Slowly, Jamie pulled her to him, looking up at her. “How long until we have to go?” 

“We don’t have to go, just yet,” she said softly, cupping his cheeks. “I told Jane not to expect me until the afternoon.” 

“Who’s Jane?” Jamie held her waist, stroking her skin under her linen shirt. 

“She’s the receptionist and sort of my assistant,” she smiled, stroking his hair back. “I think she’d like you.” 

“Oh aye?” Jamie chuckled, raising his eyebrow. “Would I like her?” 

“Everyone likes Jane, poor thing has to fight all the men at the office all day long.” 

“Weel, since she’s already busy wi’ all the men, I dinna think she’ll need me which is good in my book. I’m already busy wi’ ye,” Jamie started to unbutton her shirt, button by button, revealing her porcelain skin and the silk brassière she was wearing. 

Claire didn’t answer but he noticed the goosebumps erupting on her skin the moment he placed his lips on her belly. Her fingers ran slowly through his copper curls while his hands held her close to him. 

Her shirt dropped onto the wooden floor, which she made no motion to retrieve. Jamie looked up, their eyes locking. At that moment, he realised he never wanted to be parted from her _— but he knew eventually, he would._

Nevertheless, right now they were together and for however long it would last, he’d make sure to cherish her. 

His hands reached up her back, unhooking the brassière — his eyes seek her approval and he didn’t need more than to see her lip flick up to realise he had it. 

Claire slid the straps off her shoulders, letting the piece of silk join her shirt on the floor. 

Jamie didn’t think the sight of her naked would not take his breath away. _He was sure it wouldn’t._ He pulled her down, her knees resting onto the bed, on each side of him. That was also the moment Claire’s hair tie decided to give in, releasing her mass of curls free to cascade over her shoulders.

“Mo nighean donn,” he whispered, stroking her hair behind her ear. “My brown-haired lass.” 

“Rather dull colour brown, I always thought,” she smiled, almost shyly. 

“Nay, no’ dull at all,” he shook his head, holding her close to him. “‘Tis like the water in a burn…the way it ruffles down the rocks. Dark in the wavy spots wi’ wee bit of auburn when the sun touches it.” 

Her smile grew _— so did her shyness —_ as they both leaned back onto the bed, bare skin against bare skin, their jeans as the only layer between both their bodies. His hands ran down her back to grip her bottom, squeezing slightly. Something that made a groan escape her lips. 

Jamie couldn’t help but smile at that before Claire captured his lips with her own. 

_Hungrily_. 

_Possessively_. 

His grip on her tightened as he rolled them over. He felt himself grow for her but it wasn’t about his pleasure, right now, it was about hers. 

Breaking apart, Jamie watched her for a moment, eyes locked as he ran his finger over the valley of her breast, down her navel…to reach the opening of her jeans. Unzipping it, he pulled the material down her waist and off her legs, one by one. 

Once off, Jamie stopped and simpled watched her laying there, looking back at him. Her eyes had turned golden with lust. A shade of rich honey, her dilated pupils reflecting his image back to him. 

He took his time, his fingers stroking up her leg. The warm skin inside of her thigh. The material of her panties. All the while Claire’s eyes were glued to his. Her breath catching at each stroke. 

Leaning down, his lips lingered over hers, he whispered, “Let me cherish ye, Sassenach.” 

Claire’s hand came up to cup his cheek, nodding as she bit her lower lip at his question. Though, it was more of a testament. 

Kissing her softly, his hand slid down inside the thin garment, meeting her flesh — warm and ready for him. Jamie meant to take his sweet time, ignoring his own lust, she was the only thing that mattered at this moment. 

Often in his life, Jamie wondered why he had been put on earth. _What purpose he had to serve?_ Briefly, he had abandoned any seeking of meaning, simply living day by day. In the present without thinking about the future, nor the past. 

_But he understood now._

He understood clearly he was born for one thing and one thing only. 

_He was born for her._

Warming her breast with kisses, his hand started the exploration of her body. Slowly, at first. Increasing with each move of a finger that let moans escape Claire’s lips by the same occasion. 

Jamie studied every line of her. Every detail of the way her face moved, her lips parted, as ecstasy took over more and more. He captured her moans with his lips, tasting the hint of coffee from earlier in her mouth. He felt her legs squirming on his hand, seeking him far deeper than he already was. 

Claire’s chest rose up and down, her breathing heavy and loud, “Jamie…” she rasped. 

“I want you inside of me.” 

_He kissed her again._ Gently, his fingers moving slower. “No’, I want to watch ye first, Claire.” 

_Sorcha_. 

_And watched her he did_. 

Up until she let herself crumble from him. _For him._ A wave of pleasure washing over her. He teared up at the sight of awe in front of his eyes. He teared up at the fact that he had no idea when they’d be together like this again. Or to the possibility that he could very well be the last time. 

Claire cupped his cheek, collecting herself and smiled softly. Before she could say a word, he kissed her with all he had, his own knees about to give in if he wasn’t already laying down. 

Jamie stroked her hair back, smiling, “Alright, Sassenach?” 

“More than alright,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck. 

They laid there in silence for a while. Limbs tangled together, heartbeats in sync. They both knew things would change the moment they’d leave the peaceful bubble that was Claire’s house. They both were afraid but neither one of them said anything. 

They simply enjoyed being in each other’s arms, the feeling forever stamped in their hearts. 

Claire looked up at him, at some point, resting her chin on his chest. 

The scot stroked a curl away, smiling in return, “Sassenach?” 

“Yes?” She took his hand, waiting for whatever he would ask her next. 

“Are ye gonna get in trouble because of me?” His eyes couldn’t meet hers. The sheer idea of coming into her life and messing it all up unbearable to him. He couldn’t forgive himself and yet, he was so grateful their paths had met once more. 

Claire moved up, cupping his cheek. “Probably,” her lip flicked up into a smirk before closing the distance between their mouths to give him another long kiss. 

“But you’re worth the trouble.”


	9. Protection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said this story would have ten chapters but when I started writing the last one, I realised I had already written an ending here. I want to thank everyone who read this story and supported it, no matter the heavy subject matter. I hope you enjoy this one just as much. Who knows, maybe I’ll pick up a second arc, one day. 
> 
> From the bottom of my heart, thank you!

_**August 18th 1969** _

The air in the room was heavy. _Thick_. Like a fog wrapping itself around everyone _— making the atmosphere hard to breathe in._

Claire always found the interrogating room to be cold and depressing — not that she could blame such a thing. After all, suspects and murderers alike were not here to have a nice cup of tea with biscuits while they explained the sordid details of the crimes they might have committed, or when officers were trying to get a confession out of them. 

_But today it was different._

Today, Claire sat opposite Jamie, and the lawyer she procured him, while the recorder taped all the gruesome details of what happened the night of August 9th and events of the days around the ranch before those atrocities were committed, all over again. 

Officer Christie was in the room, outside, carefully watching this all unfold behind the dark glass. And next to him, district attorney Cooper. 

Claire toyed with her cigarette to calm her nerves, sipping some coffee from time to time while Jamie told the crime he had been witness to and what he had done, and not done, during it. _All the things he had told her prior._ All the things she knew kept him awake at night, when he wasn’t having nightmares about it. 

She wanted to shield him. _Protect him._ Take him far away from this place and never look back. Just the two of them, unbothered and in peace. _Together_. 

_But she couldn’t._

_At least not right now, anyway._  
  
Officer Beauchamp had a case to solve, people to arrest and families to give answers to. In all of this, Jamie had been a blessing _— her blessing._ Though he had been cursed, by the same occasion, finding himself in a situation despite himself. 

In truth, she didn’t know what would happen to Jamie now and it frightened her. She promised him she’d make sure he would be alright _— and she would —_ but for the first time in her career as an officer, she didn’t know how it would end. 

_“I’m no’ showin’ up there wi’ ye, Sassenach,” Jamie took her hand, stroking it slowly. “I will go turn myself in and confess what I saw and what happened. After that, ye’ll have to take care of the case and we’ll figure out what will happen to me when the time will come.”_

_“But —” she protested but he silenced her with his lips. Tender and soft, capturing hers in what could very well be one of their last kisses._

_“I dinna care if I end up in prison, do ye understand? I dinna care as long as I dinna have to live wi’ this guilt eatin’ away at me like ‘tis now.”_

_“You haven’t killed anyone, you were just a witness and it’s exactly what we will use you as in this case and for the trial. With your deposition, we can arrest the people we need and make them confess. And most importantly, once that is done, we can have a trial and when that time comes, that’s when you’ll be our key witness.”_

_“I didna stop them, do ye ken that’s a crime not to assist people who are in danger, aye?”_

_“Of course I do,” she sighed, cupping his cheeks. “But we’ll figure it out. I promise you.”_

_Jamie rested his forehead against hers, closing his eyes for a brief moment — as if he tried to find solace in her touch._

_“Do you trust me?” Claire asked softly, her eyes locking with his the moment he opened them again._

_She could see fear floating in the deep blue colour. Fear...but also love. His lip flicked up into a slight smile and he nodded, “Aye. Wi’ my life, Sassenach.”_

“Officer Beauchamp?” Jamie’s lawyer repeated for the third time, finally bringing her out her thoughts. 

Blinking, she looked at him, “I’m sorry, you were saying?” 

“My client is done.” 

“Right,” she cleared her throat, crushing her cigarette in the ashtray. Managing to control her shaky fingers, she turned off the tape recorder. 

“Mr. Fraser and yourself will stay here while I go and talk to district attorney Cooper,” Claire got up, gathering her notes and the tapes. “It shouldn’t take too long.” 

“Of course, Miss Beauchamp,” Jamie’s lawyer nodded, getting up when she did. 

Claire shot him a look, her eyebrows raising. 

“ _Officer_ Beauchamp,” he rectified, looking at her. 

She could see Jamie’s amused smile behind the older man and she had to keep it together for the sake of it, but the sight altogether warmed her bones, nonetheless. 

Without another word but a look towards her Scot, Officer Beauchamp left the interrogation room to join her colleagues next door. 

***********

“We can’t get anything stronger than this,” Attorney Cooper said nonchalantly, leaning back in one of the uncomfortable chairs of the office. 

“Maybe he’s no’ telling the truth,” Tom interfered, crossing his arms. 

“This man shows up out of the blue with a deposition incriminating a bunch of folks, it could very well be lies to cover himself up.” 

Slowly, Claire looked up from her papers and at him, “Excuse me?” 

“Fraser did it but he knows it’s easier to put the blame on a bunch of coked-up hippies so that’s what he’s doin’. He gets out of it with maybe a few years in prison, at worse, and don’t end up on the electric chair —”

“Do you actually hear the things that come out of your mouth, Christie?” Claire asked, trying to tame the anger boiling at the accusations. 

“I’m surprised ye of all people didn’t think of such a possibility? You always take the other options into consideration.” 

“There are no other options, here,” she looked at him, fed up. 

“Fraser has nothing to gain out of this. _Absolutely nothing._ I was up at the ranch for a few weeks, if anyone’s innocent in all of this, it’s him.” 

“Why are you so sure of it?” Tom’s eyebrows raised in interest, what came out of his mouth next was the last drop to his sudden turn over against Jamie. 

“What exactly happened between you and Fraser at the ranch?” 

“How dare you ask me such a question?” Claire bit the inside of her cheek to stay calm and not let anything show on her face. In truth, nothing had really happened at the ranch, save for a kiss, which she knew was already too much. But since then, a lot more had gone down between her and Jamie. All of which were nobody’s business.

“You tend to be quite defensive about it, is all,” he pointed out, his tone accusatory. 

“And you tend to forget I can fire you if I please and right now, I’m damn well finding the possibility quite appealing, Christie.” 

Cooper cleared his throat since he couldn’t clear the air, making them both turn to him. “You were at the ranch, Officer Beauchamp?” 

“About three months ago, yes. We conducted an undercover mission at Spahn ranch and I stayed there under a fake identity for a few weeks, in hopes of finding out about the illegal activities going on there. It’s all in the report,” she pointed out to the blue file laying on the desk in front of them. 

“We arrested a few of them for drug and firearms trafficking but I have no proof nor reason to believe Mr Fraser had any involvement in it all. From what I could observe, he spent his days taking care of the horses on the estate and giving tourists rides on the hills.”

“Thankfully, not all of them were criminals,” she shot Tom a look before turning back towards the district attorney. 

“Manson’s influence is what drove those young people to do such atrocities and we have no reason to believe Fraser isn’t telling the truth when he says he had no idea what they were up to when they went up to Cielo Drive.” 

“But he was also on drugs,” Christie added smugly. 

“I do believe Officer Beauchamp is right,” Cooper said, ignoring Christie. “And I’m sure she’s capable enough to spot a liar in a crowd of people.” 

Claire’s lip flicked up into a smug smile toward Tom who had nothing else to add. “Thank you, Dave, I’m glad someone here doesn’t completely think I’m incapable of doing my job.” 

“It’s no’ what I said,” Tom protested, shaking his head. 

“Anyway,” Dave cut him off before he continued as he got up. 

“Fraser is a blessing to this case. We were going nowhere, we had no clue nor motives but his story fits and not only can he back it up during the trial, but I’m also sure we won’t have any difficulties getting confessions out of Watson, Atkins and Krenwinkel once we get them arrested. This will lead to more clue about the LaBiancas’ murder since those three went out on another murder spree the next night.”

“Exactly,” Claire agreed, taking a sip of water. “I think we can build a strong case for the trial and it’s far more than what we even had three days ago.” 

“Manson will be another story, though. He was not present the night of the other murders and there is no way to make sure the jury will believe such a far-fetched story of a cult leader and his so-called upcoming race war,” Cooper sighed, leaning against the table. 

“I will be difficult but if we can prove what sort of influence he had over them, which I do believe was quite a lot, we can have him behind bars too. I never met Manson when I was at the ranch since he had been in custody for thievery but trust me, he was all over this place in spirit,” she couldn’t prevent the shiver running down her spine as she recalled it but Claire busied herself with some water to make the feeling go away. 

“No matter what, Fraser’s story fits and makes sense,” he exclaimed, adjusting his glasses. “Which means we can finally start solving this case and get some people behind bars.” 

“But what about Fraser, then?” Tom asked, leaning back. “He’s a witness, aye, but what now?” 

“He’s not safe going around Los Angeles until we get a move on to trial which very well will take months and he doesn’t deserve to end up in jail,” Cooper rubbed his chin, deep in thought. 

“So what do you suggest?” Claire asked, a knot tying in the pit of her stomach. That was the part that worried her the most. 

“Well there is no such thing as a witness protection program yet but I’ve heard talks about it at the last seminar I attended. Now, we can’t make anything official but I do believe the FBI would back us up in this case. After all, judging by the look of Fraser’s bruised face, they are already after him and he can’t spend his time hiding in the streets of L.A.”

“Whoever we arrest, the rest of the family will be after Fraser and they won’t rest until they find him, I’m sure of it,” Claire added, crossing her arms. “No matter if it’s not an official program yet, I do think we need to protect him. He’s the best chance we have to get results when a trial will occur.” 

“So you’re sayin’ he deserves immunity and protection now?” Tom got up, dumbfounded. 

“Yes,” she shot him another look that made him sit down right away. “That’s exactly what I’m saying, Christie. Got a problem with that?” 

Swallowing, the Scot shook his head, “No, ma’am.”

“Thought so,” she finished her glass of water and turned her attention back to Cooper who was nodding. 

“I’ll reach out to whoever needs to be involved in this but that’s the only solution we have got. We cannot risk his safety and we know what those people are capable of.” 

“Exactly,” she nodded absently, relief crashing over her again. _Immunity and protection._ It meant Jamie would be safe for whoever long this would take, just like she promised him -- and most importantly, he wouldn’t end up in jail. She would weep at that simple thought if she wasn’t in public. 

“I’ll go make some calls,” Cooper touched her arm in a friendly gesture and smiled before making his way out of the office. 

Claire grabbed her jacket and searched the pockets for her pack of cigarettes and lighter, all the while avoiding Tom’s glance. 

“Boss, I…”

“You _what_?” She looked at him, raising her eyebrows. 

“You were disrespectful? Yes. You were a twat? Completely. You just showed up what type of macho you are? Indeed, you did. Do not forget again that I’m your superior and not some trollop you can boss around, Christie.” 

Blinking, the scot didn’t say another word and simply nodded, his eyes studying the lovely pattern of the tiles at his feet. If he had any hope left to get a drink with her, sometimes, it had just been crushed and stomped all over the floor by Claire. 

“I do know what you were implying with your questions about my time at the ranch and you would have never permitted yourself to do so if I wasn’t a woman. Do that one more time and I’ll have you take care of traffic for the rest of your career.” 

With that, Officer Beauchamp left Tom Christie alone inside the office and made her way outside the building for some fresh air — or at least, as fresh as was possible during a heatwave, in the middle of August. 

Leaning against the brick wall, she lit her cigarette and let the smoke burn her gullet as she closed her eyes. She had no idea how long she’d been in there, first, listening to Jamie’s deposition, and then coming up with a course of action. 

“Lady Jane, fancy meeting you here,” Joe’s amused voice made her open her eyes to look at him. 

Walking over to her, he was smiling warmly, “I thought you were still in the interrogating room.” 

“I came out a few minutes ago,” Claire sat down on the sidewalk where Joe joined her. 

“So your man didn’t do it?” He looked at her, taking the cigarette of her hand and throwing it away. 

Looking at him, she raised her eyebrow but smirked, “No, my man didn’t do it. He was a witness of it all, however, and with his help, we can arrest the real killers.” 

“Well, I’m really glad to hear that,” he wrapped his arm around her, patting her shoulder. “For once you were interested in a dude, I was worried it would all go crumbling down.” 

“Thank you for your concern, Abernathy,” she chuckled softly, feeling lighter. 

“So what will happen now?” Joe asked, looking at her. “I don’t believe you told Cooper your connection to the guy, did you?” 

“I can’t say a word or I’ll lose my job altogether, Joe. Jamie came here by himself to give his deposition like he wanted to. He doesn't want me to be involved in this more than I should be.” 

“He seems like a good guy,” he smiled, squeezing her hand. 

“He is,” she smiled in turn, a far off look in her eyes as she thought of the red-haired scot she was falling in love with. 

“I just gave Cooper the report of my time at the ranch and of the arrests that happened afterwards, he’s a smart man, I’m sure he figured out Jamie and I knew one another from that time but he doesn’t need to know anything else.” 

“Is there anything else to know about you two, then?” Joe smirk grew, his eyebrows wiggling. 

Laughing, Claire felt the heat rise in her cheeks, “That is none of your business and not a conversation we should have right here — ”

“Oh, so there’s a conversation to be had about it, huh?” He nudged her before getting up. 

“Good to know! We’re due for some drinks very soon then, LJ.” 

“Drinks sound like a really good idea, actually. I have to go back in and talk with Jamie and his lawyer but it’s a date for whenever I’ll get five minutes, Joe.” 

“After all this hard work, you of all people deserve a few drinks and a vacation, I’m just saying.” 

“We’ll see about the vacation later,” she chuckled, looking up at him. “But I’ll keep it in mind.” 

“Good,” he smiled, opening the door to go back inside. “You know where to find me if you need me!” Joe added before disappearing back inside the LAPD building. 

Sighing, more of relief than frustration, Claire closed her eyes again and took a long breath before going back inside. 

For a while, she saw no end to the investigation and even if she wasn’t one to give up easily, this case had racked her brain to a point she almost thought they’d never find who did it. And then, quicker than she’d realise, not only Jamie was by her side again, she had solved a case that drove her mad. 

She didn’t know what the future held. _What would happen to her? To Jamie?_ To them. Yet, she was confident they’d come out of here, one way or another. They would put this behind them, one day, and hopefully, live in peace. Away from Los Angeles and the events that the summer of 1969 brought upon the city. 

_This wasn’t the end, it was the beginning._

It took a day for the police to arrests the perpetrators and have them admit the crimes _—almost proudly —_ before putting them in jail until the trial would start.

Jamie was put in witness protection in Big Sur, under the name of Alexander Malcolm for a couple of months, with Officer Beauchamp by his side. During those months, their connexion grew, their bond became even stronger. Forever bonded together by what had happened. 

When the trial was over and the murderers punished for good, Claire resigned as the Chief Officer of the LAPD and moved to Boston to start teaching Criminology at the prestigious Harvard University. Along came Jamie, who decided to tell his tale of the Summer of 1969 in a book, disguised as work of fiction where the protagonist was a determined Officer with a head of auburn curls and whisky eyes. 

On June 16th 1971, Officer Beauchamp became Mrs Fraser and the rest is history. 

**Author's Note:**

> The book “Helther Skelter” by Vincent Bugliosi has been a huge help when it came to the unfolding of events* and the descriptions. If you love this kind of stuff, I highly recommend you give it a read. 
> 
> *The actual timeline has been modified and slightly reduced for the need of this story!


End file.
